Demons from the Past
by superwholock1317
Summary: Dean and Jo are captured by demons who want to make Dean pay for sending them to hell. Will Sam be able to find them in time before they are tortured to death? Lots of hurt!Dean and some hurt!Sam and hurt!Jo mixed in. WARNING: rated M for torture, some language, and attempted rape
1. Prelude

**Author's** **Note: **This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so go easy on me. I didn't have anyone to beta it for me, so all mistakes are my own. I should have the next few chapters up in a day or two. All reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!

The prelude is set in season one while the rest of the story is set somewhere in the middle of season 3, so spoilers up to that point.

_**Prelude**_

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…" _Sam read carefully from the book in his hands, ignoring the gasps and curses of the demons tied to the chairs in front of him.

The two female meatsuits the demons possessed struggled furiously against their bonds, rocking back and forth in the chairs. Sam wasn't worried, however. Between the demon trap they were sitting in and the knots Dean had tied, they weren't going anywhere.

Sam continued the exorcism, still ignoring the pained screams and insults the demons threw at him.

"Let me go, you bastard!" One of the demons, Ryan, screeched at him.

"There's no way in hell that's going to happen," Dean yelled back, tossing some holy water on her. She screamed as the water burned her flesh. "This is the least you deserve."

Sam was not surprised at Dean's sudden cruelty. The two demons in front of them, Ryan and her sister Rachel, if demons could have sisters, had tortured and killed 32 people before Sam and Dean had picked up the case. 2 of the victims were hunters. Although the cases varied slightly, all the victims had a few tell-tale injuries in common: a stab in the side, slashed chest, whipped back, and a punctured hand. The demons had managed to kill 4 more people before the brothers finally tracked them down, the last one dying as Sam and Dean crashed through the door.

But that wasn't what had made Dean so angry. It was the fact that Rachel and Ryan hadn't killed those people for a ritual or because they were ordered to or for some other twisted purpose. No, they had brutally tortured and murdered 36 people because it was _fun_. It made Dean sick.

"You'll pay for this!" Rachel yelled angrily at the brothers as Sam finished the exorcism. Two plumes of black smoke erupted from the mouths of the two girls, and Sam quickly recited the verses required to finish the job and send the ejected demons to hell. Sam sighed and shut the book with a loud _thunk_ as the last of the smoke disappeared.

"Come on," Dean muttered, turning away. "Let's get out of here."

"Hang on a second," Sam stopped Dean with a hand on his arm. He moved over to the corpse of the girl on the right and started to untie her.

"Come on, man, they've been dead for weeks. There's nothing we can do for them. Let's blow this joint."

"They were people, Dean. The least we can do is pay them a little respect," Sam replied as he continued working on the knot. _Damn, Dean can tie a knot._

With a sigh, Dean walked over to the other corpse and began working on those knots. When all the knots were undone, they lowered the mutilated corpses to the ground, laying their hands peacefully on their chests and closing their eyes.

"All right, let's go."

The brothers walked back out to the Impala without a word. They knew this hunt, with its high number of gruesome deaths that they failed to prevent, was going to haunt them for a long time.


	2. Chapter 1

_Two__ Years Later_

_**Chapter One**_

"I'm telling you, man, if you just cut it, this wouldn't be a problem." Dean bit back a laugh as he watched his younger brother struggling to keep his hair out of his eyes in the strong wind.

"Shut up," Sam snapped back, pushing his hair back again. "Let's just get this over with."

The brothers walked into the coroner's office, glad to be out of the way of the icy gusts. The place was deserted except for an elderly secretary working the desk.

"Hello, ma'am," Dean said, putting on his best smile. "Agents Smith and Jones, FBI." Dean whipped out his fake badge, Sam doing the same beside him.

"Hello, gentleman!" The secretary smiled back. "How may I help you?"

"We're here investigating the death of Mr. Thomas Gregory."

"Alright. If you'll follow me." The secretary started moving towards a door in the side of the room, gesturing for them to follow. The brothers exchanged a look. Usually people took a little more convincing than that. Shrugging, Dean put it down to her old age, and followed after her, Sam close behind.

They walked down the plain white corridor, the secretary chatting excitedly the entire time.

"Tom's death really was a shame. He was a good man. Always checking on people, helping out where needed, you know? He and his wife would always bring me goodies for the holidays. You see, since my husband died, I've been living by myself, and I don't get out much. Don't really like talking to too many people. Well, I guess that's obvious since I work at a coroner's. But I always enjoyed it when Tom would come by…."

The secretary continued talking, not noticing that Dean had obviously stopped listening. He didn't much care for the gossip of old ladies. Sam was good at listening to old people, nodding at the appropriate times while the secretary chittered away. Dean had just started wondering how the burgers were at the diner they had passed by on the way into town when Sam's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, did you say other FBI agent?"

"Well, yes, there was a young woman in here yesterday to look at Tom. Hopefully you will be able to solve this case quickly with _three_ agents on it, right? Tom deserves justice, he really was a good man...here he is!" The secretary opened a drawer lining the wall and pulled out the body. "Poor man, he…" she was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing shrilly. "If you'll excuse me? I'm the only one working, and I need to get that. Take all the time you need here." She walked briskly out of the room before the hunters could inquire more as to who the other "FBI agent" was.

"Think it's another hunter?" Sam asked, zipping open the body bag.

"Probably. This isn't really a case the FBI would be worried about." Dean walked over to the body. "Not that she needs to know that," he added with a jerk of his head.

"True." Sam leaned in to examine a wound in the cadaver's neck. Two small puncture wounds, side by side. "I think we were right. Vampire."

"Yeah, and it seems they had a nice feast on Tommy here." Dean replied, holding up the chart. "Sucked dry of all blood when he was found."

"Looks like they had him for a while," Sam said, looking at the bruises on his wrist. "Held him captive."

"Which means there's an old hut or abandoned house or some other creepy-ass place around here where he was kept. Come on, Sammy, let's get out of here and grab some grub. You can start looking up creepy local joints." Dean punched Sam's arm lightly and walked out of the morgue before Sam could reply.

Even though he knew his brother couldn't see it, Sam gave Dean's back his best bitchface.

* * *

Sam slammed the trunk of the Impala shut and walked around the car to join Dean at the front. Even though this was a small town, it was rural, meaning there were a lot of old houses out in the surrounding wilderness. Sam had managed to find 7 abandoned structures within the vampire's hunting ground. They had visited two already, and had found no evidence of captives or bloodsuckers.

Sam nodded to Dean, and they silently moved forward, machetes in hand. They slowed as they neared the door and stopped to listen.

Sounds were coming from inside the house. There was definitely someone, or something, in there.

Quietly, they sneaked into the house, watching for any sudden movements. They carefully checked each room as they passed, making sure it was void of any bloodsuckers or victims before moving on. As they moved down the hall, the sounds got louder, clearer. It sounded like something heavy was being dragged.

Suddenly, a person walked backwards out of a room at the end of the hall. Both Winchester's froze, watching.

The other person froze too, apparently becoming aware of the other people in the room. She whipped around, facing them, pointing a gun at their heads.

All three relaxed as they saw who they were facing.

"Jo!" Dean said in surprise at the same time that Jo said "Sam, Dean!"

Dean laughed and walked towards Jo, pulling her into a tight hug. Sam quickly followed, doing the same.

"What are you doing here?"

"What's it look like I'm doing here? I'm finishing a job. Now help me with this vamp. There's another one back in the room."

Jo and Sam each grabbed an end of the dead vamp and carried it outside into the snow, then went back in to help Dean drag the other one out. Quickly they salted the bodies and set them ablaze. They stood in silence, watching the flames for a moment before Jo spoke up.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I feel like a beer. Coming?"

"Absolutely," Dean answered, Sam nodding beside him.

"Then let's go. You're treat."

"Hey, I didn't agree to that."

"It's the least you could do, considering I did your job for you."

"You mean you got lucky and got here first. If Sammy hadn't insisted on going to those other places first…"

"Woah, don't drag me into this. I don't remember you helping with the research."

"Yeah, well, point is we would've gotten this if you hadn't been here."

"Exactly. You would've, but you didn't, so you're buying. Let's go." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and started walking towards the front of the house.

Sam glanced at Dean and hid a smile. His brother wasn't used to being around someone who was as much of a smart-ass as he was.

The brothers quickly followed Jo around the house, and were surprised to see her head towards the Impala.

"Where's your car?" Sam asked as they approached.

"'Bout half a mile down the road in a ditch. Blew a flat on the road up here, and pushed it off the road to keep it hidden."

"Did you not have a spare?"

"That was my spare."

"Geez, first a drink, now a ride, you're a demanding girl," Dean teased.

"But I'm worth it," Jo flashed a smile at him as she climbed into the back seat.

Sam and Dean climbed into the front seat, and Dean expertly maneuvered the muscle car down the icy slope of the mountain. Whoever thought that building a tiny town on the side of a mountain was an idiot. And whoever thought of building houses even higher up said mountain was a moron. Dean wasn't at all surprised that Jo had had car trouble on this icy road. The road was getting icier and more dangerous as night slowly set in.

"Wanna stop and get your car?" Dean asked as they drove down the road.

"Nah I'll call someone to get it when I get back to the motel."

"How's your mom?" Sam asked, turning slightly in the seat to face her better.

"She's, uh, great. The Roadhouse keeps her busy." The slight pause in Jo's voice told Sam something was off.

"She doesn't know you're here, does she?"

"Not exactly," Jo answered slowly.

"Where's she think you are?" Sam inquired.

"On a road trip with a friend."

"And where exactly is your friend?" Dean asked from the driver's seat.

Jo gave a small smile. "Well, right here. Got me two great friend's right here." She patted their shoulders. Her smile disappeared when she saw the look the brother's exchanged.

"Does anyone know you're here, hunting?"

"No, not really."

"Jo, what they hell were you thinking? As if this job isn't already dangerous enough as it is, you run off to hunt two bloodsuckers with no back up and with no one knowing where you are. Are you trying to get killed?" Dean asked heatedly.

"Hey, this isn't my first hunt, I know what I'm doing."

"Doesn't matter. Accidents happen to the best of us. That was incredibly stupid of you." Sam retorted.

Jo looked indignantly at them. "That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think, considering your history."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it any less stupid," Dean said heatedly.

Jo paused for a moment. "I know. You're right."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"I had to get away. Mom and I kept fighting for no reason. I just couldn't take it anymore. When I heard about the vamp problem out here I decided to get away for a while and cool my head. I'm planning on going home after this."

Sam and Dean were silent. They had both been in that position before. Hell, being in that position was what had pushed Sam away to Stanford. They understood where she was coming from.

The passengers were silent for a few moments as the Impala sped down the road.

"Just, promise us you won't go off like this without at least giving _us_ a heads-up about where you're headed." Sam said after a while.

"Yeah, I promise." Jo answered quietly.

The rest of the ride to the bar was spent in a lighter mood, the hunters joking and laughing the whole time.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

"…he hadn't realized I had put superglue on the bottle," Sam finished his story, causing Jo to throw her head back with laughter.

"And what did you do for payback?" She asked Dean when she got her breath back.

"Nothing…yet," Dean said with a devious smile at his brother. They might have agreed to stop with the prank war, but he hadn't forgotten about it. "Anyone up for another round?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm going to head back to the motel. Starting to get a headache."

"Getting sick?"

"I don't think so. Some Tylenol should clear it up."

"Good. Last thing I need is you throwing up all over my baby. What about you Jo? Another drink?"

"Absolutely."

As both brothers got up from the table, Sam held out his hand. "Dude, keys?"

"No way. My baby likes the bar. She's staying with me."

"How am I supposed to get home, then?"

"Use those freakishly long legs of yours. It's only a mile-long walk."

"Come on, man, I'm the one with the headache here."

"If you take the Impala, how do you expect Jo and me to get home?"

"It's only a mile-long walk," Sam replied with a sly grin.

Dean grumbled as he fished his keys out of his pocket. "Making a lady walk home in the dark. You know, Sammy, most people would consider that rude."

"You're right," Sam turned to Jo. "I'm sorry I'm making you walk home in the dark with this obnoxious asshole."

Jo grinned as Dean punched Sam in the arm.

"Hey! Jerk."

"Bitch."

As Sam started to turn his back and head towards the door, Dean called, "Get one scratch on my baby, and I'll…"

"I know, I know," Sam called over his shoulder. "You'll kill my sorry ass and then hunt down my spirit so you can kill my sorry dead ass."

"Damn straight." Dean headed in the opposite direction towards the crowded bar. Getting the bartender's attention, he silently held up two fingers. The bartender nodded and came back with a pair of beers. Dean tossed some money down on the counter and headed back to the table.

He was a little surprised when he saw two obviously drunk guys standing by the table, talking to Jo. Actually, judging by her face, it looked more like they were harassing Jo. _Well, that won't end well for them_, he thought, trying to move more quickly through the crowded room.

Suddenly, one of the guys tried to grab Jo's arm. She easily avoided his grasp and returned his gesture with a quick, hard punch to the stomach. The man doubled over, backing away. His friend reacted with a clumsy throw, missing Jo by several inches. She retaliated with a series of quick punches to the abdomen and an uppercut to the jaw. He was tougher, or at least more stupid, than his friend, and he didn't back off right away.

By this time, the other man had returned, but so had Dean. Before the man could make a move towards Jo, Dean grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, giving him a nice face full of fist in the process. Another punch combined with a kick to the groin and the guy fell to the floor.

Dean looked back over to Jo. The other guy was down for the count, but another man had decided to join in on the fun. _How many stupid drunks are there in this bar_ Dean thought with exasperation as he hurried over to assist his friend.

This guy was obviously a better fighter than the first two. He managed to block a few of Jo's jabs, though he still couldn't land any hits. That is, until Dean walked up behind him and got caught in the nose by a wild elbow.

Dean backed up, hands covering his now bleeding face, cursing his own stupidity. He should have seen that coming.

Somehow the drunk managed to get his arms around Jo. He held her tight against his chest as one of the first guys got up and started moving towards them. The returner brought his fist back, but before he could land a punch, Jo kicked him hard, bringing him to his knees. She head-butted the guy holding her, forcing him to loosen his grip and allowing her to escape.

Dean caught the guy with a jab, finally knocking him out. Looking around, he saw no more stupid drunks trying to join the fight. What he did see, however, was the bartender with a shotgun in his hand, walking angrily towards them.

"Out!" He shouted at them. "I don't tolerate no brawls in my bar! Get out! Now!"

_Took you long enough_ Dean thought ruefully as he and Jo walked through the door, leaving the bartender to deal with the three downed drunks.

"Nice face," Jo said when they were alone in the cold.

"Shut up," Dean replied, leaning his head back to try and stop the blood from gushing out of his nose. "You're the one who started the fight."

"Hey, I didn't ask for them to be stupid."

Dean snorted. "You see the punch that second guy tried to throw?"

"It was pretty awful," Jo laughed.

"Ah, damn!" Dean said suddenly.

"What?"

"Forgot our beers in the bar."

Jo laughed again, and they continued their walk back to the motel. The night was cold and dark, the only noise the sound of their boots crunching on the snow. It only took a few minutes for Dean's nosebleed to stop, and by that point they were almost halfway there.

The hunters froze as they heard a scream echo from the alley on their right. Glancing at each other, they both pulled pistols out from the band of their jeans, clicking off the safety. Silently they ran into the alley.

Two large men, both armed with crowbars, were approaching a woman cowering in a corner. She screamed again, pure terror on her face.

"Back off!" Dean yelled at the men as he and Jo ran into the alley.

The men hesitated, noticing the guns that were pointed at them.

The hunters moved between the men and the woman.

"Drop the crowbars and leave," Dean warned.

The men glanced at each other, obviously unsure of what to do.

"I said drop the-" Dean was cut off by a gasp from Jo. Glancing beside him, he saw her clutching at a depressed syringe sticking out of her neck. "The hell…?"

Suddenly the woman kicked Jo hard in the back of the knee, making her fall to the ground. Before Dean could react, one of the men slammed a crowbar into his stomach. Dean doubled over, the wind knocked out of him. That was soon followed by a blow across his back. Winded, Dean's instincts kicked in and he rolled to the side. He crouched, gun raised.

"Get him!" the woman commanded as she leaned over Jo's unconscious body.

The men rushed towards him. Taking aim, Dean shot the one on the right in the arm. The man stopped, screaming, but the other one continued forward. Before Dean could get in another shot, the uninjured man swung his crowbar and knocked the gun out of his hands. Dean grabbed the crowbar the next time it came within reach and pulled, dragging the man towards him. He kicked the unbalanced man in the stomach, causing him to double over and lose his grip on his weapon. Wielding the crowbar, Dean slammed it across his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. The man grabbed Dean's ankle and pulled it out from under him, causing him to fall onto his back. The grunt stood and grabbed Dean by his shirt, pulling him up. The man placed one hand around Dean's throat and squeezed. Dean gasped, struggling against the unyielding hand. He kicked out with his foot, and felt a satisfying crunch as his kick landed in the guy's crotch. The man dropped Dean and he fell to the ground. He felt a sharp pull on his neck as they separated and realized his amulet had broken off in the grunt's hand.

Seeing that the downed man wasn't about to attack him again anytime soon, Dean looked over at the other grunt. He was still shell-shocked from his wound and posed no immediate threat. Dean turned just in time to see the woman before she tackled him to the ground. She immediately pulled out another syringe and plunged it into his neck. In moments Dean was slipping away into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

Dean let out a low moan as he slowly came back to consciousness. His head felt like several tiny dwarves had beaten it repeatedly with tiny hammers. _Went a little heavy on the drinks_ he thought to himself, groaning again as he brought his hands up to his pounding head.

Or rather, as he tried to bring his hands up. His hands didn't seem to want to respond. _Make that REALLY heavy on the drinks. _He started to silently upbraid himself for going too far when he realized that it wasn't a hangover that was making his hands unresponsive.

He quickly blinked his eyes open, squinting down at his hands in the too dim light. They were twisted tightly together with zip-ties. He tugged roughly at the bindings, testing their strength. They held strongly, strongly enough that he felt bruises already forming on his wrists.

_Awesome _he thought. _Either I've found some really messed-up, kinky chick, or I'm in deep trouble. _Moving his eyes from his bound wrists, he took in the rest of his surroundings. Or at least, what he could see. He lay on a hard concrete floor facing an equally hard concrete wall. _I'm thinking either this chick needs a better room, or it's the latter. _He tried to sit up and see where he was.

His head spun at the sudden motion, and he instinctively tried to bring a tied hand up to his head. _Right, cuffs _he thought as he felt the zip-tie roughly break through the skin at the unwanted movement. He shifted into a sitting position and rested his head against the wall, groaning as other sore muscles protested the action.

The room was relatively small, with dirty gray walls and a single bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling. There were no windows or doors. The only entrance into the room was a metal hatch in the ceiling against the far wall. From the stale, earthy smell in the air, Dean guessed he was somewhere underground. _Bound wrists, sore head, strange room. This just keeps getting better and better. _Dean sighed.

He shivered slightly when he realized that he could see his breath forming on the air. It was cold in the room. Really cold. And some jackass had taken his jacket. _Great. Something else to worry about. _

Dean looked more closely at the room. There was a chair in one corner, and several hooks and chains hanging low from the ceiling. A few hooks were attached to the walls as well. Dean froze as his roaming eyes landed on a slumped form huddled against the opposite wall.

"Sammy!" Dean called out. There was no response.

Panicking slightly, Dean looked more closely at the person lying on the floor and realized that it was too small to be his Sasquatch brother. And too feminine. With a jerk, Dean realized who it was.

"Jo!"

Memory flooded back as he suddenly remembered what happened. That bitch had played at damsel in distress to lure them to a vulnerable position then jumped them from behind. He crawled over to Jo as quickly as he could with his pounding head and bound wrists. His stomach and back throbbed with the movement, reminding him of the beaten he'd taken before getting drugged.

"Jo?" Dean asked again, more quietly as he finally reached her body and put a hand gently on her shoulder. She moaned slightly as he rolled her over. Her wrists were also bound with zip-ties, only her hands were trapped behind her back. Jo's eyelids fluttered slightly as Dean spoke to her again.

"Hey, Jo? Can you hear me? Come on, wake up. We've got a situation, and as I sure as hell ain't dealing with it alone." Jo didn't respond.

"Come on, princess, wake up. Got to make sure you're ok." Still no response.

Remembering the syringe, Dean looked closely at the puncture wound on her neck, checking for signs of poison. He had no idea what they had been injected with, or if they had even been drugged with the same thing. Luckily, there was no tell-tale signs of poison spidering out of the wound on her neck. At least something was going right.

"Let's go, Jo. Rise and shine. No time to be a lazy bitch."

Finally Jo opened her eyes. She blinked slowly until her eyes focused on Dean.

"Wat'd you call m'?" she asked groggily.

"A lazy bitch," Dean answered, letting out a silent breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"No, the 'ther thing."

"Uh, princess?"

"Yeah. Don' call me that, jackass," Jo mumbled, trying to sit up with a groan. Dean helped her reach a sitting position, knowing how his head had felt when he did the same thing. "Where are we?" she asked a little more coherently when her dizzy spell had passed.

"No idea. Somewhere underground I think, based on the smell and the lack of windows. Are you okay?" Dean asked, looking at her closely.

"Besides the mother of all headaches, I'm fine. You?"

"Same."

"Any idea who's got us, or why?"

"No clue."

"Did you and Sam-"

"Oh God, Sam!" Dean interrupted. He silently kicked himself for forgetting about his little brother in his concern for his friend. "Where is he?" He looked around the room, but saw no huddled form lurking in a corner.

"I, I don't know," Jo answered, suddenly sounding a little scared. She didn't see any signs of where he could be in the tiny room. "If they got us, they must have gotten him. Where is he?"

"Oh, Sam…" Dean groaned. He felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach as he thought of what could have happened to him.

"Wait!" Jo exclaimed. "He went back to the motel! He had a headache and went back early, remember?"

Relief flooded over Dean as he realized his brother probably wasn't trapped…wherever they were trapped. Now the real question was, where were they, and why were they here? And, more importantly, how were they going to get out?

"Well since neither of us appear to be dying, what do you say to us trying to find a way out of this hole?"

"Sounds good to me."

After a moment of struggle and a few dizzy spells, both hunters managed to get to their feet and started investigating the meager contents of the room. Besides the chair and the gruesome chains and hooks, the room was completely empty. After a quick examination, they decided none of the hooks could be used to their advantage. They had nothing to pick the lock on the hatch with, so that was out of the question. Not that they would be able to pick a lock with their hands tied the way they were, anyway. Or that they would even be able to climb the ladder to reach the lock.

After several minutes of futile searching, Dean and Jo sat down side by side against the wall, silently contemplating an escape plan. They both had been stripped of all weapons and tools, including their cell phones. Their jackets and boots were missing as well. Someone had even taken the precaution of removing Dean's belt. Clearly their captors realized how resourceful trapped hunters could be.

Worry started to settle down on Dean as he watched his breath form clouds in front of him. They had no idea where they were, why they were there, or who was keeping them captive. Both of their wrists were bound tightly. They had no weapons, no resources of any kind. The room was freezing, and they had no jackets or boots. There was no way Sam had any idea where they were. And judging by the sounds his stomach was starting to make, it had been several hours since their last meal. Things did NOT look good.

His train of thought was interrupted when he felt Jo shiver beside him. He shifted closer to her and put his arms around her for warmth, his tied hands forcing him to awkwardly hug her with both arms.

Jo didn't say anything, just shifted slightly so his arms rested more comfortably across her shoulders. She rested her head tiredly on his shoulder. They sat like that in silence, each contemplating ideas on how to escape.

As time passed, Jo started shivering more violently. Dean felt himself start to shiver too, and pulled her closer for warmth.

"You know, taking your clothes off is supposed to keep you warmer. Skin-to-skin contact," Dean teased Jo softly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, keep dreaming, big boy," Jo answered, giving him a light shove.

"What? It's survival 101."

"Right. So you figure out how to take your shirt off over your bound hands and I'll…" her snarky reply was cut short at the sound of footsteps at the door above them.


	5. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

Sam sighed as he opened the door to the motel. His head was pounding. It had started back at the abandoned house, but it hadn't really bothered him until they got to the bar. Now it almost felt like a migraine.

He dug through the duffel bag that sat on a chair in the corner and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol. Dry swallowing two pills, Sam plopped onto his bed and closed his eyes. It didn't take long before he drifted off to sleep.

He was woken by the sound of his cell going off. Drowsily he fished it out of his pocket. All signs of sleep left him when he glanced at the caller ID.

"Hey, Ellen," Sam said a little apprehensively into the receiver. He had a feeling he knew what this call was about, and he wasn't looking forward to the older woman's tirade.

"Hey, Sam, how ya doin?"

"I'm great, Ellen. What's up?"

"Don't suppose you've seen my girl around?"

Sam hesitated. He didn't want to get in the middle of their fight. Jo was going back as soon as her car was fixed. He could just tell Ellen…

"Don't you dare lie to me, boy," Ellen threatened. She obviously knew what Sam's hesitation meant.

"Yeah, she's here with us. We found her on a hunt earlier today," Sam admitted with a sigh.

"Is she alright?" Sam was surprised to hear how scared the usually stoic woman suddenly sounded.

"Yeah, she's fine, don't worry. She's got a little car trouble, but she said she'll go home as soon as that's sorted out."

Ellen's sigh of relief was audible through the phone. "Thank god. Can you do me a favor and make sure she gets back here safe? I really messed up this time, and I've got to set things straight."

"Of course."

"Thanks, Sam. Take care of yourself and your brother."

"You too," Sam hung up and closed his eyes. His head was still pounding as badly as it had been last night.

He was thinking about going back to sleep when he glanced over at the bedside clock. It lazily blinked 7:18 He hadn't realized he had slept that long.

Sitting up, he tiredly grabbed a change of clothes and went to the bathroom. After a quick shower, he walked back into the room, toweling his hair dry. Looking around the room for the bottle of Tylenol, he noticed that the other bed was still made. Dean had never returned from the bar.

Frowning, Sam walked over to his phone. There were no messages from his brother, which was odd, since Dean almost always made sure Sam knew where he was. Even if he was with a girl, he usually sent a text letting him know he wouldn't be back that night. It was a precaution born of their dangerous lifestyle.

He tried calling his brother's number. There was no answer. A knot of dread starting to form in Sam's stomach, he dialed Jo's number. Again no answer. This wasn't boding well.

Sam left the room and walked a few doors down to the room Jo had rented. He pounded on the door several times, calling her name, but no one came to the door. This wasn't boding well at all.

Sam rushed over to the Impala, hoping they were still at the bar but doubting they were. He cursed when he dropped the keys. He hadn't realized his hands were shaking.

As he bent to pick up the fallen item, he noticed an ominous shadow fall over him. Instinctively he tucked his head under and rolled to the side. A loud crash sounded moments later from where his head just was.

He rolled into a crouch and looked at his assailant. It was a big guy, easily 300 pounds, and all muscle. Noticing the broken glass scattered at his feet, Sam groaned inwardly. _Dean's going to kill me._

Sam's focus shifted to the large man in front of him as the crowbar was swung at his head. He lost his balance as he scrambled backwards, and wasn't quite able to avoid the next assault. The metal bar nicked his shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but definitely hard enough to leave a nasty bruise. Sam rolled forward as the brute took another swing. He caught the man by surprise as he ducked the bar and awkwardly tackled him to the ground. He wrestled with him for a moment, trying to get the bar from the man, but it was no use. The guy was hell of a lot stronger than he looked, which was saying something. Sam was tossed backwards, flying through the air until his back and head collided with the side of the Impala. The air rushed out of the hunter at the impact, his headache intensifying tenfold.

Sam sat there dazed for a moment as the other man lumbered to his feet. When the brute had finally stood up, he looked at Sam and smiled menacingly, lofting the crowbar up.

"Christo!" Sam yelled quickly, hoping to figure out if this guy was possessed our not. When the man remained unaffected and continued moving towards him, Sam yanked his gun out from the band of his jeans. He hated shooting civilians, even stupid asshats like this one, but he didn't see much other choice. The guy was physically stronger than him, and he had a weapon.

Sam took careful aim, then pulled the trigger just as the man brought the bar back for another blow. The bullet flew true. The guy toppled over, dropping the crowbar and gripping his injured leg as he howled in pain. The man might be an asshat, but that didn't mean he deserved to die.

Quickly, Sam grabbed the crowbar and swung it at the injured man's head, knocking him out. He shouldn't be able to cause any more trouble.

Sam was just about to get into the Impala when he heard a noise behind him. Cursing, he spun around, gun ready, and found himself face to face with an elderly maid. She looked terrified, her eyes wide and her shoulders trembling, tears streaming down her pale face.

Putting the gun away, he held up his hands in a non-threatening gesture. He knew he needed to go and find Dean and Jo, but he couldn't just leave her like this.

"Hey, it's ok, I'm not going to hurt you," Sam said gently as he slowly walked towards her. She backed away a little, so Sam stopped his advance.

"You, you hurt him," the woman whimpered.

"It was self-defense. He attacked me," Sam defended.

"You hurt him," the woman repeated. Sam suddenly noticed she had a cell phone in her shaking hand. She was calling the police. That was the last thing he needed.

"He'll be ok, look, I'm not robbing him, there's no need to call the cops," Sam desperately tried to reason with her. The woman backed away from him faster, starting to dial a number.

_Shit_. Not wanting to get caught by the cops, Sam quickly ran back into the room he and Dean shared, threw their meager belongings into bags, and then ran back out to the parking lot. Tossing the bags into the trunk, Sam dove into the driver's seat and revved up the engine, tires squealing as he wheeled out of the parking lot. After the ordeal with the shape shifter in St. Louis, Dean was a wanted felon; having the cops finding his belongings at the scene of an apparent mugging was not ideal. That woman probably had told the police a description of him. He needed to find his brother and get the hell out of Dodge before the law caught up with them.


	6. Chapter 5

_Before**: **As time passed, Jo started shivering more violently. Dean felt himself start to shiver too, and pulled her closer for warmth. _

"_You know, taking your clothes off is supposed to keep you warmer. Skin-to-skin contact," Dean teased Jo softly, trying to lighten the mood. _

"_Yeah, keep dreaming, big boy," Jo answered, giving him a light shove. _

"_What? It's survival 101."_

"_Right. So you figure out how to take your shirt off over your bound hands and I'll…" her snarky reply was cut short at the sound of footsteps at the door above them. _

_**Chapter Five**_

Slowly the metal hatch swung open, and someone started climbing down the ladder. As soon as his head was clear of the opening, another set of feet appeared, then another. Quickly the newcomers climbed down, closing the hatch behind them. Two males and a female stood before them, the men large and looming and the woman tall and athletically built.

They were the bitches from the alley that Dean had already decided were going to die a slow and painful death.

"Well, well, well," the female drawled, "isn't that sweet? The two love birds keeping each other warm."

"Who are you?" Dean demanded furiously, pulling his bound back from around Jo's shoulders.

"Don't you remember me, Dean sweetie? I'm hurt. After all we've been through…" the woman stuck out her lower lip in imitation of a pout.

_Shit_ Dean thought, trying frantically to figure out how he knew her. Women tend to get pissy when you don't remember them.

"I mean, the last time we met, you and your brother sent me to Hell, sweetie." Dean froze as the woman's eyes flickered black for a moment before switching back to their normal blue color.

_Shit! _The woman was possessed by a pissed-off demon.A pissed-off demon whom he had helped send into the pits of hell."What do you want?"

"Oh, all in good time, sweetie. We don't want to rush things. We've got to give ourselves time to get reacquainted, after all." The woman nodded to the men behind her, and they started moving towards Dean and Jo.

Dean noticed the blood-soaked bandage on the arm of the man approaching him and awkwardly aimed a two-handed punch at the wound. He wasn't used to fighting with bound wrists, however. His punch was off, and the man caught him off-guard with a left hook in the gut. He doubled over and the man's fist connected with his torso several more times before Dean felt himself being lifted off the ground. He had only a few seconds to register what was happening before pain shot through his shoulders. Looking up, he saw he was hanging from the ceiling by his tied wrists from one of the hooks, his weight supported by his shoulders, his feet barely touching the ground.

A low grunt from beside him told him that Jo had done slightly better than he had. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the other man holding his crotch. Apparently she had kicked him in the jewels.

Jo didn't last much longer than that, however. The one who had manhandled Dean came up behind her and punched her hard in the side, throwing her off balance. He grabbed her tied wrists and lifted her onto one of the hooks beside Dean, his wounded arm not hindering him at all. Jo gasped as her arms were twisted awkwardly behind her back, and Dean heard a soft _pop _as her left shoulder came out of its socket.

"There," the demon said, "I think we can talk properly now, don't you?"

"What do you want, you bitch?" Dean asked again, enraged that those brutes had hurt Jo.

Dean grunted as one of the men, the one with the bullet wound, landed a fist firmly in his gut. "Language, Dean," the woman teased. "We're all reasonable adults here, no need for profanity."

"Reasonable adults? All I see is two hunters hanging from hooks talking to a crazy-ass demon and two butt-ugly thugs." Dean was ready for the series of punches this time, and managed to suppress a groan. Those fists were going to leave some nasty bruises.

"Now, now, sweetie, remember you manners. Or did your mommy and daddy fail to teach you that? Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot. Your mommy died before she got the chance, and your daddy was too much of an asshole to know any better."

Dean glared at her. No one insults his family and gets away with it. _This bitch is just begging to die a painful death. _The mention of his father jogged something in his memory, however. Dean silently kicked himself for not remembering it earlier.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…" _the demon jolted as Dean began to recite the exorcism.

"Stop him!" She gasped in pain, motioning urgently to the two grunts.

Bullet-Wound clamped his hand firmly over Dean's mouth while the other grunt pounded his fist into his side. _Just as well, I don't remember the rest anyway _Dean thought bitterly. But that wasn't what he aimed to accomplish with his little stunt.

Dean smiled inwardly as he heard Jo quietly pick up the rest of the exorcism. He had hoped she knew the rest and would take the hint from him and continue it.

"Her too! Stop her!" the woman groaned, doubled over as she tried to stay inside her meat suit.

Dean's heart sank as the man attempting to pulverize his torso stopped and moved over to Jo. He had hoped she would have enough time to finish the exorcism. Dean heard a loud smack as the grunt slapped her across the face then clamped his hand down over her mouth. Jo struggled uselessly against his strong hand, trying to get free.

"You're right, sweetie, these really aren't the best circumstances for us to have a reasonable conversation, is it?" the demon growled. Dean looked at her in surprise. Was she going to let them go?

"Martin, get the girl down. Take her someplace else so Dean and I can have a nice little chit-chat all by ourselves, all right?" the woman said to one of the grunts, the sarcastic sweetness back in her voice.

"Oh, and you need only keep her alive. Other than that, you can have your way with her," the demon added with a sick smile. Dean didn't like the sound of that.

"Stay away from her, you bitch!" Dean yelled, the words muffled by Bullet-Wound's meaty hand. The grunt near Jo, Martin, smiled viciously.

Jo squirmed desperately on the hook, but couldn't do much with her dislocated shoulder. As Martin reached up to take her down, she bit down on his bicep, drawing blood. Martin took a step back, cursing, clasping a hand to his arm. He slapped Jo hard across the face, then lifted his hand to look at the bite. He cursed again and angrily drew something from his pocket. A syringe like the ones from the alley.

At the sight of the drug, Jo struggled even harder, but to no avail. Martin stabbed the needle into the side of her neck, and moments later Jo's movements slowed as she slipped into unconsciousness. Martin roughly got her off the hook, being a little too touchy for Dean's taste.

"Don't touch her, you asshole!" Dean yelled, only to be greeted with more blows. He grunted as he felt one of his ribs crack with a particularly well-placed punch.

"Do quiet down, sweetie. You're only making it worse for yourself," the demon told Dean with faked concern.

Martin swung Jo over his shoulder and climbed out of the room, barely hindered by Jo's dead weight. Bullet-Wound looked at the demon and, when she gave him a curt nod, followed quickly after Martin. Dean watched the woman suspiciously as they were left alone, but she didn't move towards him.

After several moments of silent waiting, the demon shivered slightly and adjusted her thick winter coat on her shoulders. "Cold, isn't it?" she asked mockingly.

The hatch opened suddenly and the demon walked over to it. Something was handed down to her, something flat and silver. It was a tray with several things that Dean couldn't quite make out on it. The demon dragged the chair from the corner of the room and sat it in front of Dean. Smiling at him, she carefully laid the tray on the seat. She then went back to the opening and acquired several large jugs that were being lowered down from above. Bullet-Wound climbed down soon after.

Dread filled Dean as he looked at the contents of the tray. It contained knives of varying sizes, several spikes, what looked like a cat-o'-nines, and other things Dean couldn't quite make out. But their purpose was clear. They were instruments of torture.

He had a feeling this was going to be a rather painful "little chit-chat."

**A/N:** So hopefully you guys are liking it so far. It might be a day or two before I get the next chapter up, but I'll get it up as soon as I can. It'd be awesome if you could tell me what you think so far! If you like it, if you don't (hopefully not that), what I need to fix, if it's making sense, is everyone acting in character, etc., because, damnit Jim! I'm an engineer, not a writer, and I need all the help I can get! Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 6

_Before: Not wanting to get caught by the cops, Sam quickly ran back into the room he and Dean shared, threw their meager belongings into bags, and then ran back out to the parking lot. Tossing the bags into the trunk, Sam dove into the driver's seat and revved up the engine, tires squealing as he wheeled out of the parking lot. After the ordeal with the shape shifter in St. Louis, Dean was a wanted felon; having the cops finding his belongings at the scene of an apparent mugging was not ideal. That woman probably had told the police a description of him. He needed to find his brother and get the hell out of Dodge before the law caught up with them. _

_**Chapter Six**_

The wheels of the Impala skidded on ice as Sam sped down the road, the wind biting his face through the broken window. He didn't care, however. All he could think about was finding his brother as soon as possible. He absently noted the flashing blue and red lights of a police car speeding down the road in the opposite direction. There was no way he could go back to the motel now.

Pulling into the bar parking lot, he swerved the muscle car into an open parking spot, barely waiting long enough to kill the engine before bursting out of the car and into the bar. Looking around the nearly empty room, he didn't see any sign of his brother or Jo. Sam recognized the bartender as the same one who had worked the shift last night and rushed over to him.

"Hey, have you seen the people I was with last night?"

"Who was that?"

"A tall guy and a blonde chick."

"Ah, them. I tossed 'em out about 1ish for disrup'in the peace."

"Disrupting the peace?"

"They done start a fight."

Sam groaned. Leave it to Dean to find trouble the moment he was out of his sight. "Do you know where they went?"

"Nope. Didn't much care where they went so long as it wasn't here."

"Right. Thanks." Sam tossed the guy a few bills for his trouble then hurried back out of the deserted bar.

Running his hands through his hair, Sam tried to think of what to do. He _had _to find them, there was no question about it. Looking around, Sam noticed that a light snow had started. _That's it._

Kneeling down, Sam examined the snow in front of the bar. This was the first snowfall since last night, so the other hunter's tracks might not have been covered up yet with fresh snow. He would have to work fast, though, before this new snowfall covered up any sign of them. As he examined the ground, however, Sam realized snow wasn't the problem. The ground was a mess of footprints from the bar's patrons. It was difficult to tell one imprint from another. Sam didn't give up that easily, however. He continued scouring the entire parking lot, praying to find a footprint he recognized.

His diligence paid off when he spotted the familiar tread of a large boot, an indentation of a smaller boot next to it. Eagerly, he followed the trail. It was difficult to follow at times due to other footprints and the falling snow, but he never lost the trail thanks to years of tracking in the woods.

The footprints veered off down an alleyway not too far from the bar. Following, he noticed more prints joining them. Judging by the markings in the snow, it looked like there had been some sort of scuffle. He examined the white-covered ground, trying to figure out what happened. His blood ran cold when his eyes fell on an object off to the side. Dean's amulet.

His brother never took that necklace off. Ever. Seeing it discarded on the ground told Sam that his brother was in some serious shit. Sam pocketed the amulet and redoubled his efforts.

Sam found several sets of footprints that led away from the scene of the crime. They were sunk lower into the snow, as though they were carrying something. Following the tracks down the rest of the alley, he saw that they let out on the other side, then stopped a few yards down the sidewalk. Those SOB's must have gotten into a car. There was no way to track them now.

Realizing this, Sam fought to keep a grip on himself. He couldn't lose his brother like this, he couldn't! He had to find where they were. Desperately looking around, he tried to think. Security cameras could have gotten video of the captors and their car. But there were no security cameras in this small town. A passerby might have saw. But they probably would have been drunk. Besides, how would Sam find a witness in a reasonable amount of time anyway? He could track the GPS on their phones. But Dean, and probably Jo, always kept the GPS turned off. He could, maybe…he could…what? _What else can I do? _

For the first time in a very long time, Sam was losing his cool. He didn't know what to do, and he didn't have his big brother there to help.

Sam was on the verge of breaking down when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He turned, surprised to see the face of a concerned woman looking up at him.

"Are you ok darling?" She asked worriedly.

Sam straightened his shoulders and nodded, a little ashamed to have broken down so much that a complete stranger was showing concern. He knew better than that. He would find them. Even though he had no viable leads right now, he would find one. It might require all of the skills that he had acquired over the years, but he would find them.

"Yes, I'm ok, thank you," he smiled down at her.

"All right darling. Do you need help getting anywhere?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks. My car is just around the corner."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Thank you," Sam started to turn away when a glint of silver caught his eyes. Instinct kicked in and he shot his arm out, ramming into her hand and knocking the weapon to the ground. He was forced back a few steps when her other fist crashed into his head. This woman might be small, but whoever she was, she was _strong_. A little unnaturally strong…

Sam cursed under his breath when the woman smiled at him and blinked, her dark blue eyes turning pitch-black for a moment before switching back to normal. She was a goddamned demon.

He dodged a series of quick, successive punches, then threw his elbow out to ram into her face, hard. Now it was her turn to step back, dazed. Not waiting for her to recover, Sam punched her several more times, the last one finally knocking her to the ground, unconscious.

Sam stood there for a moment, panting, taking in what had just happened. Getting attacked not just once, but twice, in the same day, and once by a demon no less, could not be a coincidence. Especially not on the day that Dean and Jo went missing. Sam smiled to himself. Looks like he just found his lead.

Glancing at the discarded weapon, Sam was surprised to see not a knife or a gun, but a syringe. She had tried to drug him. Sam moved to the unconscious demon, throwing her over his shoulder, and ran back to the Impala. He needed to get her somewhere secure before she came to. But where? The motel was out, since it was probably crawling with cops looking for him. He couldn't drive to Ellen's or Bobby's, they were too far away. As Sam threw the demon into the trunk, making sure no one was watching, he tried to figure out what to do next.


	8. Chapter 7

_Before: Dread filled Dean as he looked at the contents of the tray. It contained knives of varying sizes, several spikes, what looked like a cat-o'-nines, and other things Dean couldn't quite make out. But their purpose was clear. They were instruments of torture._

_He had a feeling this was going to be a rather painful "little chit-chat."_

_**Chapter Seven**_

Dean watched warily as the demon carefully examined the contents of the make-shift table. "Where's Jo? What have you done with her?" The demon ignored him.

"Where is she, you black-eyed bitch?" Still no response. "Answer me!"

The demon finally glanced at him and smiled. "Don't worry, your sweetheart is safe. Martin's going to take good care of her."

Dean had a feeling that he knew how Martin was going to "take care of her", and he didn't like it one bit. He needed to get out of here and help her before Martin tried anything.

"What do you want with us?"

"We just want to have a little fun."

Dean braced himself as the demon picked up an ugly looking knife and turned to him. She grinned at him in a way that in another situation he might have found sexy. Her tongue dragged along the blade as she slowly approached him.

She paused before him and ran her hand gently down his chest. He shivered at the unwanted touch. The demon brought the knife up to his neck, and Dean held his breath, waiting to feel the bite of the blade. Instead, she ripped the blade down his shirt. She repeated this process until his shirts lay in ribbons at his feet. With nothing to protect his bare torso from the cold, Dean started to shiver again.

The demon stepped back to admire her work, again running a hand along his hard muscles, almost like a lover's touch. Ugly purple bruises were already beginning to show along his ribs and stomach, courtesy of Martin and Bullet-Wound.

"Hey, we only just met. It's a little soon for that," Dean retorted, trying to arch his body away from her invasive hand. "I don't even know your name."

"Oh, but we do know each other sweetie. We're old friends," the demon walked back over to the chair and dragged it closer to the dangling hunter. "Let's see if I can't help you jog your memory." She picked up one of the jugs that sat on the floor.

Unscrewing the bottle, she doused Dean's head in ice cold water. Dean gasped as the sudden cold took his breath away.

"Does that help, sweetie? Do you remember now?" the demon asked, a little angrily, picking up another bottle and repeating the process. "You don't remember burning me with holy water?"

"Sorry, you obviously didn't make an impression, _sweetie_," Dean answered as he tried to get his breath back. "I soak too many black-eyed sons of bitches to remember them all."

As if in answer, the demon picked up another bottle of freezing water and splashed it onto Dean's body. He was now thoroughly soaked and trembling harder than ever against the cold.

"What did I tell you about language, sweetie?" The demon picked up a small knife from the tray and quickly slashed it across his bare chest, making a long, shallow cut.

Dean bit back a moan. "Don't remember. I was too busy making friends with Ugly over there," Dean nodded his head towards the corner where Bullet-Wound was standing. The man scowled in return.

"You should listen more carefully next time," the demon said, bringing the blade down across his right bicep. "I hate having to teach lessons twice."

She laid down the knife and ran her fingers over the other objects on the tray. "Have you remembered my name yet, sweetie?" She asked, glancing back at him. When he didn't answer, she continued. "Maybe this will help with your breakthrough." She picked up a nasty looking spike off the improvised table.

Dean eyed the spike as she turned back towards him. He didn't remember ganking any demons with a weapon like that.

The demon held the spike up in front of his face, flicked it with her finger, then twirled it and plunged it into the left side of his stomach, directly above his hip bone. Dean couldn't keep back a grunt of pain as she slowly twisted the weapon, forcing it deeper into his body. The demon's eyes lit up at the sounds of his distress. The wound was well placed; it wasn't immediately fatal, but _damn_ did it hurt.

Dean gritted his teeth, forcing himself to breathe deeply as she finally drew the spike out. He hung there, trembling and panting slightly, glaring at her. _Whoever this bitch is, I'm going to enjoy sending her back to hell. _

"Remember me now, sweetie? No? How about now?" The demon grabbed a knife from the tray and reached up to slash it across the back of Dean's right hand. He gasped in pain as he felt fresh blood run down his wrists from the wound. She drew the knife back and plunged it through the center of his palm.

"AAAHHHHH!" Dean couldn't keep the scream back as the blade tore through the muscles in his hand.

The demon smiled and withdrew the knife. She had missed doing this.

"Any name's popping into that thick skull of yours?" Seeing no sudden realization on the trapped hunter's face, the demon sighed and put the weapons down. "Really, Dean, I thought you'd be brighter than this." She picked up the wicked cat-o'-nines from the tray. "Sammy probably would have remembered me."

Dean's head shot up at the mention of his little brother. "If you hurt him, I swear I'll…"

"You'll what, sweetie? Send me to hell? See, you tried that once, yet here I am." The demon walked back to him and slowly caressed his face with the handle of the whip. "I just couldn't stay away." She walked around him, dragging the handle across his body as she did.

Dean let out a pained scream as the whip came down hard across his back.

"I had hoped you would remember me by this point. I mean, I've given you most of my signature marks." The whip snapped down again. "Puncture wound in the stomach, stabbed hand, lashings on the back. Sure, my victims usually had other marks too, from my sister…" Dean screamed as the whip bit into his back a third time. "…but overall, I thought I was making it pretty obvious." The cat-o'-nines cracked down once more across his bare flesh.

_Victims? _Dean struggled to think through the pain. _Sister? _Suddenly, realization dawned on him as he put two and two together.

"_Ryan?!" _he gasped out in pain.

The fall of the whip stopped at the sound of the name. The demon walked back around to face him. "Finally, sweetie you remembered. I knew you could do it." She patted his head as if in reward.

"Where's your sister?" Dean asked, gritting his teeth against the pain. "I thought you two tortured as a team."

"Oh, don't worry, she'll be joining us soon. Rachel just had to pick someone up first. After all, you're not the only one we're looking forward to meeting again."

_Sam! _"What have you done to him?"

"Nothing yet, sweetie. Rachel's just going to bring him here to join our little party." She shivered slightly and adjusted her coat again. "Although, it does seem to be a little chilly at our party." She studied him for a moment, relishing in the sight of the violent tremors that were shaking his beaten body. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I've been a rude host. Would you like something to warm you up?"

Before Dean could answer, Ryan grabbed something long and flexible from the tray and tied it around his neck. Grinning maniacally at him, she held up a remote and pushed a button.

Dean's body seized as electricity rushed through the collar at his neck. The voltage was set far above the usual setting; electricity tore viciously through his body.

After what felt like an eternity, Ryan released the button. "Is that better, sweetie?"

Dean hung from the hook, trembling and breathing heavily, unable to get his mouth to work to answer.

Ryan seemed to notice his trembling. "Still cold?" She again held down the button on the remote, this time for longer. Dean writhed in pain as pure agony swept through his body. It felt like his veins were on fire, his blood boiling from the intrusive shocks.

Finally she released the button and put the remote in her pocket. "I'm really starting to enjoy myself, sweetie, aren't you?" Dean didn't answer, just hung there limply. "I can't wait until my sister and your brother join us."

"Leave…him…alone…" Dean managed through pained breaths.

"Oh don't worry sweetie, I won't lay a finger on your precious little brother. Well, at least not until my sister has had some fun with him. Speaking of which, they should be here soon." She glanced down at her watch and frowned slightly, then looked towards Bullet-Wound.

"Alvin, go see if Rachel needs any help with Sammy." The man nodded and left without a word.

"I thought you and your sister worked alone. Where'd you pick up Fugly 1 and Fugly 2?" Dean managed to ask, trying to keep his mind off of the pain in his body.

"Oh, you'd be surprised at how easy it is to find people to help you when you name the right price. They're good for security and for doing the heavy lifting, but don't worry, Rachel and I still like to do the dirty work ourselves."

Ryan picked up another knife from the table and grinned. "Now, back to the party!"


	9. Chapter 8

_Before: Jo squirmed desperately on the hook, but couldn't do much with her dislocated shoulder. As Martin reached up to take her down, she bit down on his bicep, drawing blood. Martin took a step back, cursing, clasping a hand to his arm. He slapped Jo hard across the face, then lifted his hand to look at the bite. He cursed again and angrily drew something from his pocket. A syringe like the ones from the alley._

_At the sight of the drug, Jo struggled even harder, but to no avail. Martin stabbed the needle into the side of her neck, and moments later Jo's movements slowed as she slipped into unconsciousness. Martin roughly got her off the hook, being a little too touchy for Dean's taste._

_"Don't touch her, you asshole!" Dean yelled, only to be greeted with more blows. He grunted as he felt one of his ribs crack with a particularly well-placed punch._

_"Do quiet down, sweetie. You're only making it worse for yourself," the demon told Dean with faked concern._

_Martin swung Jo over his shoulder and climbed out of the room, barely hindered by Jo's dead weight. _

_**Chapter Eight**_

Jo slowly blinked her eyes open as the effect of the drugs wore off. She lay on her back, her hands still tied roughly behind her. She sat up, groaning at the pain in her dislocated shoulder, and took in her new surroundings.

She was in another room, this one with wood floors and a window. The room was sparsely decorated. The only furniture was an old bureau, a small desk, and the metal cot that she sat on.

"Dean?" Jo called out. She was disappointed but not surprised when she didn't get an answer. Judging by the window, she was several stories higher than the other room and probably nowhere near her friend.

She rose from the cot carefully, wary of her injured shoulder and her head. Luckily, the room didn't spin this time as she shifted her weight to her feet. _At least something's going well. _

She walked over to the door and shifted around to jiggle the handle with her tied hands. Unsurprisingly, the door didn't budge. She sighed. She knew it had been a slim chance that it would have been unlocked, but it was worth a try. There was no way she would be able to pick the lock with her hands tied behind her, anyway.

Moving over to the window, she began to inspect it, hoping that it would offer an escape route. The window was bolted tightly closed, not designed to open. Peering past the sill, Jo decided that was just as well. It was a two-story drop down into some angry looking rose bushes. There was no balcony or anything to give her purchase to climb down the wall, either. Not that her shoulder would let her climb.

Jo glanced at the surrounding area, hoping to get an idea of where they were. All she saw were snow-covered trees. _Ok, so we're in the middle of a crappy house in the middle of a forest _she thought. That didn't really help, considering the little town they were staying in was surrounded by forest.

She was surprised to see that the sun was starting to set. They had been here for almost 24 hours. Her dry mouth reminded her that she hadn't had anything to drink in that time. She either needed to find a way out of here quickly or pray that her captors decided that watching her die of dehydration was not something they wanted.

She shivered suddenly, remembering the cold. _Or freeze to death, for that matter._

Turning away from the window, Jo decided to focus on getting her hands free before trying anything else. Having her hands free would give her a little edge, or at the least be more comfortable. _Might even be able to find an old spring in that mattress to pick the lock with. _

Jo walked back over to the cot. She inspected it closely, hoping to find a sharp edge that she could use to try and cut through the zip-ties. After several minutes, Jo decided that the cot was going to be of no use to her and examined the bureau and the desk. They were empty and offered nothing helpful. Jo slumped down onto the cot. She felt a moment of panic flail up inside her as she started to realize how helpless her situation was, but she pushed the feeling down. _That won't help you _she upbraided herself.

Pulling herself together, her eyes fell on the wooden floor. The wood looked old, old enough that it would probably be held together by rusted nails…

Jo jumped up and started feeling around the floor with her bare feet, looking for a loose nail in the floor. She thought if she could pry one from the floor, she might be able to use it to cut the zip-ties and pick the lock. If nothing else, she would at least have some sort of weapon for when that grunt Martin came back.

Close to the window, her toe stubbed on a slightly raised nail. Excited, Jo sat down with her back facing the nail so she could work it with her fingers. It was tough work, but after several minutes she thought she felt it loosening. Eager to be free, she redoubled her efforts.

She was so focused on her work that she didn't hear the footsteps outside the door or the sound of a key in a lock.

Jo jumped as the door creaked open, revealing Martin's looming form in the doorframe.

"Have a nice nap?" Martin smiled down at her. "Figured I'd be a gentleman, and wait for you to wake up."

"Wait for what?" Jo asked slowly, not liking the way the man was eyeing her.

Martin's smile grew wider at the question, a wild look in his eye. He approached Jo, pulling out a pocket knife as he did so. Jo immediately recoiled, trying to get away from the blade, but her back was soon pressed up against the wall. She braced herself as Martin reached over her, but instead of the sharp bite of the blade she heard a quick _snap_. Martin had cut the bindings on her wrists.

Surprised, Jo looked at the man in confusion, and froze when she saw the look in his eyes. Lust. Pure, unadulterated lust. He yanked her button-down shirt open and pushed it off her shoulders, forcing it off her easily now that her wrists were untied. Jo's eyes went wide as she realized what he was trying to do.

Jo thrashed her legs out, trying to push him back, but he trapped her legs down and straddled them, effectively pinning them to the ground. He pressed his face against hers, his rancid breath making her gag. Jo struggled harder, punching him with her good hand, but to no avail. He continued with an almost animalistic fervor. His hands moved desperately across her back, around her hips, and over her stomach.

"Stop! Please don't!" Jo begged.

Martin pushed Jo down to the ground, her legs still trapped beneath his weight. She cried out in pain as she felt bone grind against bone as her shoulder slid back into place. Martin's face split into a twisted smile and he pressed his mouth against her neck, his hands groping her body. Jo flailed desperately, trying to get him off her as one of his hands moved to remove her tank top and sports bra.

Suddenly, Jo felt her left arm come into contact with something sharp. Martin's knife. He had laid it carelessly to the side in his desperation to get her undressed. Jo grabbed the hilt of the knife and plunged the blade into Martin's side.

Martin screamed in pain, pushing roughly off of Jo. Immediately, Jo rolled away, knife still in hand. She turned back towards him, and saw Martin on his knees, clutching the knife wound in his side. He looked up at her furiously.

"You'll pay for that, you bitch!"

He lunged towards her, but Jo was ready. She easily sidestepped his tackle, and he flew past her, his head coming into contact with the side of the cot. Martin fell to the floor with a moan.

Knowing it was now or never, Jo walked over to the barely conscious brute in front her, knife in hand. _I could kill this sick bastard now. Keep him from "waiting" for anyone else. _But she knew she couldn't kill a man, even one as disgusting as this.

Instead of plunging the blade into his heart, Jo settled for ramming the hilt of the knife into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. Knowing she couldn't leave him here to come after her as soon as he gained consciousness, she quickly cut his shirt off him, using the strips to tie him securely to the cot. She stuffed her broken button-down into his mouth as a gag.

Jo sat up and winced at the sudden pain in her shoulder when she moved her arm. Not seeing anything else to use as a brace or a sling, she tucked her wrist under the strap of her sports bra in an attempt to keep her arm somewhat more stationary. With a final, disgusted look at the unconscious man, Jo picked up the knife and moved quietly towards the door and the rest of the house.


	10. Chapter 9

_Before: Sam moved to the unconscious demon, throwing her over his shoulder, and ran back to the Impala. He needed to get her somewhere secure before she came to. But where? The motel was out, since it was probably crawling with cops looking for him. He couldn't drive to Ellen's or Bobby's, they were too far away. As Sam threw the demon into the trunk, making sure no one was watching, he tried to figure out what to do next._

_**Chapter Nine**_

Sam vigorously shook the can of spray-paint. He was almost done with the demon trap, if only this damn paint would work.

The captured demon sat tied to a chair in the middle of the hastily drawn trap. She was once again unconscious, having come around once when Sam pulled her out of the trunk.

They stood in the living room of Abandoned House #2, which Sam and Dean had investigated just a few hours before. It was located outside of the town, nestled off the highway behind the cover of some trees. A good, isolated location. Now only if it had heat, it would be the perfect hideout. It was freezing.

Finally getting the paint to work, Sam stood up, trap complete. He looked at his captive, wondering what this was all about. She was still out cold, and it didn't look like she was going to come around anytime soon. With a sigh, Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and stepped into the kitchen. He felt obliged to call Ellen and tell her what had happened. Sam hated to make her worry, but it was her daughter, after all. And, to be honest, Sam wouldn't mind having someone who could help with this situation.

Ellen picked up after the third ring. "What's up, Sam?"

"Hey, Ellen. Listen, something happened. Dean and Jo…" Sam stopped as he choked up a little. This was harder than he expected, as though saying it out loud made it more real.

"Dean and Jo what, Sam?" Worry was laced through Ellen's voice.

Sam took a deep, steadying breath. "They're missing. They were at the bar last night, but never came back. When I was tracking them I got jumped by a demon. I managed to subdue her, and I'm going to talk to her once she comes around, but I think…" Sam had to take another steadying breath. "I think they were taken by demons. Ellen, I'm sorry, I don't know anything else."

There was silence on the other end. Finally, Ellen spoke, a deadly undertone in her voice. "Where are you? I'm coming to help."

"In a small town called Lakeside in Wyoming."

"Alright I'll be there as soon as I can. Don't worry, Sam, we'll find them." With that, she hung up.

Sam stared at his phone for a moment. It felt good to know someone else was going to help, that he wasn't alone. He hadn't felt this desperate or hopeless before. He'd been on tons of cases like this, even worked several of them by himself. Find the victim, gank the demon, simple as that. But now that the victim was his brother… no, he couldn't think of Dean as a victim.

Sam composed himself and walked back into the living room. He noticed that the demon was coming around, and he walked over to the old couch where his duffle bag lay. Digging through it, he pulled out Ruby's knife, a canister of salt, and a flask of holy water. Shaking the flask, he made a mental note to stop by a church sometime soon. They were running low on holy water.

The demon shook her head as she finally gained consciousness. Sam could see her expression change from that of confusion to that of anger as she took in her situation. She glared at Sam, pure hatred in her eyes.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Sam demanded.

The demon leered at him, not responding.

"Let me ask that again. Who are you?"

"Untie these knots, and maybe I'll tell you as a reward."

"Right." Sam picked up the knife and stepped into the demon's trap. With one quick motion, he brought the knife down and slashed her arm. The demon screamed in pain. "You see, you're not really in a position to negotiate. When I ask you a question, you're going to answer it. Now, who are you?"

Instead of answering, the woman spat in Sam's face. The hunter reached back and grabbed the salt, pouring a little into the open wound. The demon howled, struggling against the ropes. Sam pressed the salt further into the gash, causing the demon to scream even louder. Normally he wouldn't have been this cruel, but his brother's life was on the line, and this bitch was in his way. He had no sympathy for her. Finally, she screamed out a name. "Rachel!"

Sam stepped back, shocked. He knew that name. They had worked a case with a demon named Rachel and her sister Ryan two years ago back in Maine. Horror gripped Sam as the details of the case came back to him. He remembered seeing countless of viciously mutilated victims, having to soothe grieving families, and mourning the loss of some of their fellow hunters. He also distinctly remembered exorcising the demons.

"Rachel? How the hell are you topside?"

She grinned at him. "I do believe I actually have you and your brother to thank for that, darling. After all, the two of you were so kind as to open the gates of hell and allow us back up here. I do appreciate it, darling." The grin faded. "Unfortunately, that favor wasn't enough to make up for what the two of you did to us."

Well, shit. That answered his earlier question of what she wanted. Revenge. Sweet, maniacal revenge. While Rachel wouldn't be able to do much avenging in her current situation, Sam had no idea what the situation was with her sister and the missing hunters. Dread clenched his stomach as he remembered all of the vicious mutilations the demons had inflicted on their victims. He needed to find Dean and Jo. Fast.

"Where are Dean and Jo?"

The sick grin slid back onto Rachel's face. "I imagine they are either in pain or in agony. Depends on how fast Ryan's working."

Sam slapped her, sending her head reeling to the side. "Where are they?"

"Oh, darling, and I thought you were supposed to be the nice one. Your brother's the one with the reputation of being violent and short-tempered." Her words were greeted with another punch to the head followed by a gash on her other arm.

"Where are they?"

She looked at the fresh blood pouring down her forearm and laughed. "This again? Is this really the best you can do, darling? I'm rather disappointed." Sam ignored her and dumped salt into the open wound. She screamed, but the smile never left her face. "There's nothing you can do to me that will make me tell them where they are."

"We'll see about that. After all, this got you howling your name." Sam pressed his thumb into the salted wound. Rachel screamed again, throwing her head back. When Sam released the pressure, however, he was surprised to see that the demon was laughing.

"Do you really think that I would tell you something I didn't want you to know?"

Sam reached for the holy water as her words sunk in. She made it sound like she _wanted_ him to know who she was, like she was playing with him. For her, this wasn't an interrogation. It was a game. A twisted, violent game that could cost him his brother's life if he didn't play well.

Unscrewing the flask of holy water, he forced her head back, pouring the purified liquid into her gaping mouth. She gagged and screamed as the water burned her from the inside.

"Where. Are. They?"

Rachel remained as stubborn as ever. Sam tried as many different techniques he could think of to try and get her to talk. Holy water, salt, demon blade, even a few lines of the exorcism. But she didn't budge. After nearly an hour of fruitless interrogation, Sam reached his breaking point. He finally let out his bottled up anger, anxiety, and frustration and punched the demon into unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Sorry for taking so long with the past two updates. My life's been a little busy lately. Here's a nice, extra-long chapter to make it up to you!

_**Chapter Ten**_

Dean moaned softly in the darkness. Ryan had finally left him alone after he had fainted from pain and blood loss. He didn't care where she went, and didn't much care for her to come back. He welcomed the respite.

He was trembling uncontrollably now, the cold starting to really take its toll on him. Ryan enjoyed dousing him in ice water. Which just so happened to be just water, not holy water, as Dean learned when he tried spitting the water in her face. That little "stunt," as she called it, had earned him another two slashes across the chest and a nice long shock from the collar still around his neck.

Dean also sported several more welts on his back from the whip, a gash across his thigh, several more bruises across his torso, and a broken right arm. Judging by the pain that racked through his side with every tremor, he was pretty sure his cracked rib had completely broken.

He didn't know how long he had been here alone, but it was long enough for most of the bleeding to have slowed. The two newest slashes on his chest still oozed slightly and he could feel blood slowly pouring from his punctured hand, but other than that the bleeding had slowed. All except for the wound in his side, which still bled profusely. Between the blood loss, the pain, the cold, and the lack of nourishment, Dean felt light-headed. Staying conscious even now was difficult.

The worst part, however, wasn't the pain or the cold. It was not knowing what was happening to Jo and Sam. He had no idea where either of them were or if they were ok. Dean prayed to every entity he knew that they weren't hurt and that Sam was still free. He needed to find a way out of here before anything happened to them. _And while I still have the strength to help them_ he added silently as another tremor shook his damaged body.

A sound from above broke through Dean's thoughts. Voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but they sounded urgent. As they talked Dean mentally brought himself back together. There was no way in hell he was letting Ryan know how weak he actually was.

After several minutes of heated conversation, the voices broke off and the hatch swung open. The demon, Alvin, and another large man climbed down, the men carrying several plastic jugs. Ryan had come back for more "fun."

Alvin and his friend deposited the jugs in the center of the room and moved to a corner. Dean noted that the stranger was limping.

The demon stopped in the middle of the room and stared at Dean appraisingly. He glared back, trying to convey all the hatred and disgust he felt towards her while attempting to hide the pain and fear he was trying to fight down.

The silence stretched as Ryan just stood there, watching him. The only sound was the wind howling through the open hatch. Dean was starting to grow uncomfortable with her sudden quietness. She had been so talkative before. Finally, he broke the silence.

"You should take a picture, it'll last longer," he retorted, putting up a brave façade.

Ryan's eyes narrowed. She continued to glare at him for a few moments, then finally spoke.

"Your brother's giving us a lot of trouble, Dean."

"Yeah, he's good at being a pain in the ass."

"We don't tolerate people who give us trouble." She continued to glare at him for another moment in silence before speaking again. "According to Christopher here," she continued, gesturing to the newcomer, "Sammy found his visit a little…disagreeable. You can see he injured my colleague. Now your brother and my sister are missing." She stepped closer to the hunter. "You're going to help us find him. Where is he, Dean?"

"If you think I'm going to tell your sorry-ass where he is, you've got another thing coming."

"Do not make me ask again, Dean Winchester. Where is your brother?" Ryan's voice had turned dangerously cold.

"He's in friggin' Disneyland having the time of his-" Dean cut off as Ryan backhanded him sharply across the face.

Stars danced across his eyes from the force of the blow. _Damn, demons can pack a punch. _Dean was too dazed to realize what was happening around him until he felt something tighten around his neck.

Gagging, Dean fought to focus on his surroundings. Ryan held a rope taut in her hand. Following the thick rope with his eyes, he saw it looped over the same hook he was dangling from. He presumed the other end of it was what was now cutting off his air supply.

"I told you not to make me ask again."

Dean couldn't reply as he fought to get oxygen to his lungs. He desperately tried to pull his weight up higher, ignoring his throbbing shoulders, but to no avail. As the pressure relinquished slightly from his gained altitude, Ryan simply pulled the rope tighter. The stars that already danced in front of his eyes increased as his lungs screamed for air. He was just on the verge of passing out, thinking he was going to die, when Ryan finally dropped the rope. Immediately, the pressure at his throat diminished and Dean gasped in great lung full of airs. His broken rib screamed in protest at every heave, but Dean ignored it, just grateful to be getting air back into his oxygen-starved lungs.

"Where's Sam?" Ryan's voiced penetrated through Dean's pained gasps.

"Go….to….he-" Dean was cut off again as the pressure increased on the rope. Once again, Dean struggled for air. His struggle increased when electricity ripped through him, forcing his body to seize up and the pressure of the rope to increase even more. Dean was certain he was going to pass out when the pressure and the electricity suddenly relaxed.

"Are you going to be helpful?" Ryan's cold eyes glared at him, assessing him.

Dean panted heavily, trying to get air into his starving lungs. Truth was, Dean didn't _know _where Sam was. Not that he would tell them if he did. But he would have liked to know that his little brother was safe. The only places he thought he would be were the motel or the bar, and considering these bitches had been waiting in ambush for him and Jo, he assumed they knew where those were. Which meant Sam probably wasn't there. Dean prayed that his baby brother was somewhere safe.

When the hunter didn't answer, Ryan again pulled on the rope. This time, however, she didn't yank it tight enough to suffocate him. It was just tight enough to restrict his breathing slightly, making breathing uncomfortable and talking nearly impossible.

She walked over to the wall, rope in hand, and tied the end to a hook attached to the wall, leaving her hands free as the rope continued to strangle Dean. As she walked back over to the now forcibly mute man, she pulled out a cell phone, Dean's cell phone, and dialed a number. "Let's see if your brother will be more helpful."

Dean watched her warily, and drew in a sharp breath as he faintly heard his brother answer on the other end.

"Hello, Sammy. It's been a long time." Her voice was sickeningly sweet, not at all cold and dangerous like it had been moments before.

"Ryan? What do you want? Where's Dean? Where's Jo?"

"So many questions, Sammy boy. Slow down. Jo's being taken care of, and your brother's right here with me. Say hi, Dean."

Dean tried to communicate to his brother that he was ok, that he was still living and conscious and fighting, but all that came out was a strangled moan. Not at all the confident, strong reassurance he had wanted to give his brother.

"Now, Sammy, I believe you are currently in the company of my sister. If you would be so kind as to put her on the line, I would be very grateful."

"And why would I do that?"

"Well, because I happen to have a nice big bottle of hydrochloric acid here with me, and I'm thinking about how much fun it would be to bathe your big brother in it." She picked up one of the new plastic jugs from the floor and walked closer to Dean.

"And what if I were to tell you I have a nice big bottle of holy water here with _me, _and I'm thinking about how much fun it would be to bathe your sister in it?" Sam retorted.

"I would say I'm willing to bet that I have more acid than you have water. Want to see who can withstand the pain the longest?" Ryan paused for a moment, waiting for Sam's reply. When he didn't say anything, she unscrewed the cap of the jug and raised it above Dean's right shoulder. "I'm waiting."

"Tell me what you want to say to her, and I'll…" the rest of Sam's answer was cut off by the sound of Dean's scream as Ryan tipped the jug.

Acid streamed down Dean's right shoulder, rushing down his right side and into his open wounds. Dean writhed in pain. He fought to keep the howls of pains away, not wanting to make his little brother worry, but he couldn't help it. Dean screamed in agony as the acid continued to eat away at his skin. Well, screamed as well as he could with a rope around his neck. He could faintly hear Sam's frantic cries in the background.

"Phone, Sammy. Now." There was a moment of silence, then a female voice came over the line.

"Ryan?"

"Rachel." Ryan continued on, switching to a dialect Dean didn't recognize.

Dean was in too much pain to attempt to understand what the demon was saying. He moaned as the acid continued to burn his right side, seeping into the cuts along his arm and chest. It felt like a thousand scalding knives biting into his skin. He had never experienced pain like this before.

Finally, Ryan switched back into English. "Thank you, Sammy. You're much more cooperative than your big brother. I still have some manners to teach him." Before Sam could reply, she clicked off the phone. She turned to the men standing silently in the corner. "Highway 82. 11 miles. Abandoned cabin. Go." Alvin nodded and climbed out of the room.

"You can leave too, Christopher," the demon added, turning back to her prisoner.

"Sorry for the delay, sweetie. Business called. But now that the boring stuff's taken care of, we can get back to the fun."

Dean glared at her, wishing looks could kill. There were so many things he wanted to say to her. _Where's Sammy? Where's Jo? Rot in hell. What did that bitch say? _But he couldn't say anything due to the rope that was slowly strangling him.

"Now, I think it's time to have an important discussion." Ryan picked up a carving knife off the tray. She walked up to him and slowly pressed it into the skin above his heart.

"You care so much for your brother, don't you sweetie?" She pressed the blade in harder, breaking the skin. "Always try to keep him safe, just like Daddy told you to." Slowly the blade dragged across the right side of his chest. "But you keep failing."

Dean didn't answer, in part because of the noose around his neck and partly because he was focusing on not passing out from the pain. Acid was already mixing into the new wound.

"How many times have you let your baby brother down, sweetie? How many times has he gotten injured because of your folly?" The blade worked its way around his side and to his back. "Probably too many to count. But don't worry, this will be the last time you let down your little brother. Because my little sister is going to kill him." The knife plunged into his back, directly below his right shoulder blade.

Dean let out a strangled moan. He didn't want to believe what she said. From the phone call, it sounded more like Rachel was at Sam's mercy than Sam was at Rachel's. But he didn't know what she had told her sister when she was speaking in tongues. A knot of dread started to form in the pit of his stomach as the fear for his brother was renewed.

Ryan removed the knife and walked back around in front of him.

"And what about all those victims? How many were there? 36? 36 people you couldn't save."

Slowly she started to drag the knife down his chest in a long straight line, followed by another, and another, all parallel to each other. "One…two…three…four…you know, they all died screaming, begging for mercy…five…" On the fifth count she drug the knife diagonally across the other slashes. Dean groaned as the knife cut into him.

"Six..." again the parallel slash. "Seven…eight…many of them were helpless women, mothers, wives, what you might have called a good person…nine…and you didn't save them. You let them die…ten"

Dean tried to block out her words along with the pain. Most of the victims had died before they had taken the case. Most of them weren't their fault!

"Some were children…eleven…twelve…one was only five years old…thirteen…and you let him die." There was nothing he could have done for them, they were dead before he knew they were dying!

"Fourteen…he begged for his mommy and daddy, but no one came…fifteen…no one came to the rescue…sixteen…seventeen…no one cared enough to come, not even you…eighteen." It wasn't his fault! Except for those last few…

"Oh how it must grate at you to know you let so many people down…nineteen…let so many die…twenty…twenty-one…one right in front of you…twenty-two." If he had been just a minute sooner, they might have been able to help the last victim. If only he had been a little faster, a little stronger…

"Twenty-three…he died screaming, right in front of you…twenty-four…you let him die…twenty-five…twenty-six…you weren't strong enough to save him…twenty-seven…just like you weren't strong enough to save the others…twenty-eight…just like you weren't strong enough to save your mommy…twenty-nine…or your daddy…thirty…or your little sweetheart…thirty-one…or your baby brother…thirty-two…or yourself…thirty-three…thirty-four..." The demon paused and leaned in close to his ear. "You're a failure." She quickly carved the final two tally marks into his chest as physical reminders of his failure.

Dean breathed heavily as she finally backed away, his head hanging low. His shoulders shook as silent tears flowed down his face from both the pain and the sorrow he felt. Not to mention the self-loathing at his failure. All the guilt and hatred he had kept carefully locked away in the back of his mind were set loose in his dangerously weakened state. He should have saved those people. It was his job.

Ryan stood there, studying him, taking obvious pleasure in his despair. Suddenly, her eyes took on a ravenous look.

"You know, even all mangled as you are, you really are quite handsome. I'm sure you have all the ladies falling at your feet." She stepped up to him and ran her hands down his bare chest. He winced as her hands passed over the cuts, and grunted as she put pressure on his broken rib. He tried to move his body away from her hand, but to no avail. Dean just wanted to be left alone, he wanted her to leave. No more pain, no more torture, no more suffering. He wanted Sammy. More tears streamed down his face at the thought of the little brother he had let down so many times. At least Sam wasn't the one being tortured.

"I think it's time for a different type of fun." Ryan leaned her head in, pressing her lips against his, jolting him out of his thoughts. Dean immediately jerked his head back and to the side as far as he could with the noose tightened around his neck. Ryan's eyes narrowed.

"Still so rude." She reached back and grabbed a dagger off of the table and pressed it to the back of his neck. She then leaned in to kiss him again. Dean couldn't pull back now without cutting his neck on the blade.

He was forced to hang there, not moving, as she continued to force her mouth against his. Her free hand explored his body. He felt her smile as he groaned at the pain her hand was causing.

Slowly her hand worked its way down his body, making sure to aggravate every wound that wasn't bathed in acid. Most of the shivers racking through Dean had nothing to do with the cold now. The demon ran her hand along the hem of his jeans and followed the zipper down. She smiled against his mouth as she squeezed his crotch, hard.

Suddenly, a large _thud _sounded outside the door. Ryan jerked back and glared at the ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, she stepped back from Dean. She started to walk towards the door, then paused, turning back to the hunter.

"Hold this for me, will you, sweetie?" She asked as she plunged the dagger into his right shoulder. Dean screamed in agony as the blade tore at the muscles of his strained shoulder and acid seeped into the wound. Ryan smiled at his sounds of anguish. She pulled a gun out from behind her jeans, checked that it was loaded, tucked it back behind her belt, and left the room, leaving Dean alone with his pain.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N:** This chapter goes back a little and gives the phone call from Sam's point of view. Big thanks to those who have reviewed so far! I really appreciate it, it means more than you know!

_Before: Rachel remained as stubborn as ever. Sam tried as many different techniques he could think of to try and get her to talk. Holy water, salt, demon blade, even a few lines of the exorcism. But she didn't budge. After nearly an hour of fruitless interrogation, Sam reached his breaking point. He finally let out his bottled up anger, anxiety, and frustration and punched the demon into unconsciousness._

_**Chapter Elev****en**_

Sam took in a lungful of the crisp, refreshing winter air. He stood outside the cabin, trying to clear his head. The demon had come back to consciousness not too long ago, but he was still no closer to getting the answers he so desperately wanted. He needed a moment away from her, some time to cool down, clear his head, and think logically about how to proceed.

It had been nearly 12 hours since he had discovered that Dean and Jo were missing. Which meant that it had been almost 19 hours since he had last seen them. Anything could have happened to them by now. They could be several states away, they could be critically injured, they could be…no. He couldn't think like that. They could be just a few roads over and in perfect health for all he knew.

Reaching down and grabbing a handful of snow, he brought it up to his face and pressed it against it. The cold felt good on his heated skin. Although the cabin was freezing, the demon infuriated him, making his blood boil as he worked up a sweat trying to elicit some answers.

Sam tried to think of other ways to get his answers. He wasn't a torturer, he didn't know a thousand and one ways to get people to talk. And for that matter, he didn't want to know a thousand and one ways to torture people. He hated this whole thing. Now that he had had time to cool down some, he was determined to find a way to try and reason with her and convince her to tell him without the pain. He was still pondering how to go about doing this when his phone started ringing, startling him. Sam pulled his phone out with numb fingers. He almost dropped the phone when he saw the number. It was Dean.

"Hello? Dean?" he asked frantically.

He froze when a sickeningly sweet female voice answered. "Hello, Sammy. It's been a long time." It was a little hard to understand her; a strong wind howled behind her.

"Ryan? What do you want? Where's Dean? Where's Jo?"

"So many questions, Sammy boy. Slow down. Jo's being taken care of, and your brother's right here with me. Say hi, Dean."

Sam's stomach plummeted when he heard a strangled moan come over the phone, his fears confirmed. Dean was captured, and he was not in good shape.

"Now, Sammy, I believe you are currently in the company of my sister. If you would be so kind as to put her on the line, I would be very grateful." Ryan's voice broke through his thoughts.

"And why would I do that?" He wasn't about to give the bitch who was torturing his brother anything she wanted.

"Well, because I happen to have a nice big bottle of hydrochloric acid here with me, and I'm thinking about how much fun it would be to bathe your big brother in it.

_Crap!_ Sam didn't want his brother to suffer from acid, but he also didn't want to give the phone over to the demon. "And what if I were to tell you I have a nice big bottle of holy water here with _me_, and I'm thinking about how much it would be to bathe your sister in it?" Sam bluffed, hoping to scare her into putting away the acid.

"I would say I'm willing to bet that I have more acid than you have water. Want to see who could withstand the pain the longest?"

_Shit._ Clearly Ryan didn't care what he did to her sister, and he didn't have enough holy water to back up his fake bravado. Before he could think of what to do, Ryan's voice cut through.

"I'm waiting."

He didn't want to give the phone to the demon. Who knew what they could plan without him knowing it? "Tell me what you want to say to her and I'll…" he was cut off by the sound of his brother's scream. The sound made Sam's blood run cold. It was a strangled sound, as though Dean was having trouble breathing, but it was a scream of pure agony nonetheless.

"Stop! Please, stop it!" Sam yelled frantically into the phone. He felt so useless, being able to do nothing but stand there and listen to his brother's screams.

"Phone, Sammy. Now."

Sam ran back into the living room to where Rachel was still tied up. He didn't want to give her the phone, but it was either this or hurt Dean. This seemed to be the lesser of the two evils.

The demon leered at him, a mocking grin on her face. She had obviously heard him yell, and knew what this phone call was about. Sam walked up to her and tucked the phone roughly between her head and her shoulder.

"Ryan?"

"Rachel." The demons switched into what sounded like Latin. Sam was by no means fluent in the language, but he was familiar enough with it to understand a few words. He heard Ryan say the words for "barn", "kill", and "fight". He was trying to figure out how they fit together when Rachel started talking. All other thoughts left him when he heard what she was saying. "House" and "road" were all Sam understood, but it was enough for him to comprehend what was happening. She was telling her where she was.

Sam knew she didn't know exactly where they were, since she was unconscious when they arrived, but it was obvious that they were in a cabin and the sound of a highway could faintly be heard in the distance. That was enough for anyone to use to find them, given enough time.

Rachel motioned for him to take the phone back, and Sam held it up to his ear.

"Thank you, Sammy. You're much more cooperative than your big brother. I still have some manners to teach him."

_What the hell does that mean?_ Before Sam could say anything more, Ryan hung up, and he was left alone with the other demon.

"Sounds like they're having fun," Rachel jeered at him.

"Shut up," Sam answered roughly. He walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Someone was certainly on their way to rescue Rachel, and he was still no closer to figuring out where Dean and Jo were. He didn't have anywhere else to take the demon; the other abandoned structures they had scouted were too close to civilization. He needed to figure out what to do before the others found them.

Sam took a deep breath. _Okay, what do I know?_ Dean was with Ryan. That was obvious. He didn't know where Jo was, but hopefully it was somewhere close. Ryan had mentioned a barn, so that probably meant they were in an old barn somewhere. It had also sounded like there was a strong wind in the background. Sam glanced out the window. The wind was not nearly that strong here. That probably meant they were somewhere farther up the mountain, where the wind was fiercer. An abandoned farm farther up the mountain. It was a start.

Grabbing the laptop, he sat down at the dining room table and fired it up. He figured he had at least twenty minutes before anybody found them, so he had to work fast. Switching into full research mode, he looked up barns located higher up the mountain. It took him less than ten minutes to narrow the search down to two locations. He wrote down the addresses, praying that one of them was the right one.

As he walked back into the living room to grab his bag, he figured there was no harm in seeing if Rachel would tell him if one of the addresses was correct. Holding out the paper, he asked, "Are they at either of these places?"

Rachel looked at the scribbled addresses. Her face remained placid, giving no indication that she recognized either of them. If she knew them, then she had a really good poker face.

"Are we going on a field trip?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Sam didn't answer, he just grabbed his bag and turned to go outside.

"Don't leave darling! We were having so much fun," Rachel called after him. She'd gotten annoyingly cocky since the phone call.

Sam tossed the bag into the trunk of the Impala and paused. What to do with the demon? He didn't want to exorcise her, in case his lead was wrong, but he couldn't leave her here to be rescued either. Seeing no other choice, he grabbed another length of rope from the Impala and went back inside. He had to take her with him.

Before he was halfway to the door, a gunshot broke through the night, and Sam fell to the ground, a searing pain in his left arm. The demon's friends had found them sooner than expected.

**A/N: **Yes, I know it's unlikely that there'd be wi-fi in an abandoned cabin, but I mean, come on, it's Sam we're talking about. When doesn't he have wi-fi?


	13. Chapter 12

_Before: Instead of plunging the blade into his heart, Jo settled for ramming the hilt of the knife into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. Knowing she couldn't leave him here to come after her as soon as he gained consciousness, she quickly cut his shirt off him, using the strips to tie him securely to the cot. She stuffed her broken button-down into his mouth as a gag._

_Jo sat up and winced at the sudden pain in her shoulder when she moved her arm. Not seeing anything else to use as a brace or a sling, she tucked her wrist under the strap of her sports bra in an attempt to keep her arm somewhat more stationary. With a final, disgusted look at the unconscious man, Jo picked up the knife and moved quietly towards the door and the rest of the house. _

_**Chapter Twelve**_

Jo moved quietly down the stairs of the house after checking the rest of the rooms on the second floor. No one else was there. The rest of the floor was as sparsely decorated as the room she had woken up in. Jo absently wondered where the owners of the house were.

Jo paused on the stairs and listened for any sounds of activity on the ground floor. She knew she had at least one other grunt and a demon to deal with, and she didn't want to be caught unaware.

Hearing nothing, she cautiously walked down the hall, holding the small pocket knife in front of her. She repeated the same process that she had upstairs, checking all the rooms. The downstairs was just as empty as the upstairs had been. The only sign that anyone had been here recently was a case of beer in the fridge. Jo paused long enough in the kitchen to lap some water from the faucet, then continued on her search.

Convinced that there was no one in the house, Jo went outside and looked around. There was no sign that anyone else was here. There wasn't even a car in the snow-covered driveway. An old, decrepit road led from the house into the forest, but it didn't seem like the house was near any other form of civilization.

Slowly, she crept around the side of the house. As she moved to the back, she noticed an old barn a few hundred feet off to the side. Jo looked around quickly, checking to make sure there was no one around, then quickly ran across the open space to the barn, her breathe misting in front of her.

She leaned up against the side of the barn, again listening for any sounds. The barn was silent, so Jo carefully eased the door open. The hinges creaked loudly, and Jo held her breath, waiting to see if the sound had alerted anyone. When she was sure that the noise had gone unnoticed, Jo opened the door the rest of the way and slipped inside.

The barn was large and empty of anything except dust and a few barrels in the corner. The only other doors were on the opposite wall. It looked more like a storage barn than anything else; no loft or stalls existed for anyone to hide in.

Jo warily walked through the barn. She was about halfway through when something to the side caught her eye. To the right lay a steel hatch in the ground. Slowly approaching it, she could hear a female voice coming through it. She couldn't make out what was being said, but she recognized the voice as the demon's. Jo blood ran cold as another sound joined it. An anguished scream. Dean's scream.

She had to fight to keep herself from wrenching the hatch open and running in to help him right then and there. That wouldn't do either of them any good. With only a small knife for a weapon and an injured shoulder, Jo didn't stand much chance against the demon. She had to plan, had to do this carefully.

Hating herself, she walked a little away from the door. Taking the small knife, she meticulously started carving a demon's trap into the wood of the barn floor, trying to ignore the moans and screams of pain she could hear through the hatch door. She carved the trap a little away from the hatch to ensure that she would have enough room to climb through the door without being heckled by anyone standing in the trap.

Jo jumped when the hatch door suddenly swung open with a loud bang. Instincts kicking in, Jo dove behind the dusty barrels in the corner and lay still, hoping that whoever this was wouldn't notice the half-finished trap in the ground.

Jo watched from the cover of the barrels as the other grunt climbed out, closely followed by another man she didn't recognize. They left the barn without hesitation. Luckily, they didn't notice the extra decorations Jo had added to the floor.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Jo hurried over to complete the trap. The pocket knife was not very large or sharp, making carving difficult. After several tense minutes, she finally finished.

She backed up a few steps to get a better look at it, making sure it was correct. The last thing she needed was for the demon come out and the trap to malfunction. Suddenly, she felt herself bump into something. She let out a gasp of horror as she accidently knocked one of the barrels over. It hit the ground with a resounding _thud_. Jo froze, cursing her clumsiness and dreading the consequences.

She was not expecting to hear Dean's cries of pain increase tenfold. Tears started to swell in her eyes at the sound, a sound she couldn't help but think her folly had helped cause. She started to run towards the screams to help the injured hunter, safety be damned, when the hatch suddenly swung open again and the demon climbed out.

The demon stared at the hunter for a moment, blinking in surprise. Then her face broke into a grin and she called down into the still-open hatch. "Guess what, sweetie? Your sweetheart's here to join the party!"

The demon started sauntering towards Jo, apparently unconcerned with the pocket-knife in her hand.

Never taking her eyes off her approaching enemy, Jo slowly started circling around until the demon trap lay between them, praying the demon wouldn't look down and notice the carvings on the floor.

"What have you done to Dean?" Jo asked, hoping to keep the demon's focus on her and not on where she was moving.

"Oh, you'll see soon enough, sweetheart. In fact, all you need to do is come with me and you can see him again." The grin on the demon's face and the fake kindness in her voice was sickening.

"No, thanks, I think we would have more fun if Dean joined us up here. More spacious." Jo answered, slowly moving away from the woman, drawing her closer to the trap.

"You know, you're right, it is more spacious up here. We would be more comfortable."

Jo stopped for a moment in surprise. Was she really going to let Dean go? Her hope was immediately dashed with the demon's next words.

"But, you see, I don't think he's really in a good enough condition to join us up here. Are you sweetie?" She yelled the last words over her shoulder at the hatch from which Dean's moans could be heard.

She paused for a moment, listening, before continuing. "Sweetie, I asked you a question. Do you feel ok enough to join us up here?" Dean didn't answer.

The demon turned her attention back to Jo. "I've tried to teach him some manners, tried to teach him to answer ladies' questions, but he just doesn't learn," she said with an obviously fake sigh. "I'll just have to teach him again." She pulled a small remote out of her pocket and pushed a button.

Immediately, the moans coming from Dean turned into screams. Whatever that button did, it was causing him a lot of pain.

Jo's heartbeat quickened as she listened to him. She needed to get to him, to help him. But first she had to deal with the demon.

Jo quickened her backward march, drawing the demon closer and closer to the trap. _So close…._

"Where's Martin? He was supposed to take care of you." _Just a few more feet…_

"Oh, he tried, but I didn't much care for his…ministrations. So I took care of him." _Almost…there!_

"I hope you didn't hurt him, because I…"the demon froze as she stepped to the far side of the trap and hit an invisible wall. She glanced down at the engravings holding her captive, then looked back at the hunter, her face twisted in anger.

"How dare you!" All the sweetness was gone from her voice, replaced by pure rage. "Release me, you bitch, or I'll-"

Jo didn't pay attention to the rest of the demon's angry rant. As soon as she saw the trap worked, she ran to the hatch, desperate to get to Dean. She quickly slipped down the ladder, ignoring the demon's words that were coming through the still-open hatch. Jo turned and froze when she laid eyes on the mangled figure hanging in the center of the room.


	14. Chapter 13

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

Dean hung limp from the ceiling, supported only by his arms and a rope around his neck. His chest was exposed, revealing a plethora of lacerations running along it, some of them deep, almost all of them dripping red. There was a large gash across his thigh and a black collar encircled his throat. A large, painful looking puncture wound above his left hip was still oozing blood. His right side was red and raw, as if it had been burned, and a knife protruded from his right shoulder. What little of him wasn't covered by blood showed deep, painful bruises. And those were just the injuries Jo could see from a distance. She didn't want to think about what other horrors he had suffered. Dean was pale from blood loss, and his lips were tinted a pale blue from the early stages of hypothermia. He continued to groan as he hung, shivers racking his broken body.

"Oh, Dean," Jo let out in a small whisper. She rushed over to his barely-conscious form.

"Hey Dean. Hey. It's me. It's Jo" Jo said, gently holding his tear-stained face in her hands. He moaned softly, and slowly opened his eyes to look at her.

"Hey, I'm here. You're going to be ok." Dean's eyes filled with relief as he focused on her.

"Jo?" he croaked. Between the pain, exhaustion, hunger, cold, and slow strangulation, it was difficult for him to speak.

"Yeah, it's me. It's ok now. I'm going to take this dagger out of your shoulder, ok Dean? This might hurt a little." Dean moaned in response.

Carefully gripping the hilt of the knife, Jo slowly pulled it out, trying to make it as painless as possible. Even with her careful handling, however, the movement still elicited some gasps of pain from Dean.

"Sorry," she apologized as he groaned even louder as the blade finally slid free. He was panting a little harder than before from the added pain.

"I'm going to get that rope off you now, ok?" Jo started sawing on the rope. As she worked, she could hear the demon yelling profanities at them.

Finally, the rope snapped. Dean took in deep, pained breaths as his ability to breathe was fully returned to him. "Thanks," he panted.

"Don't thank me yet. We've yet to reach the home stretch."

She examined the hook Dean was suspended from. There was no way to lower the hook, and she certainly wasn't going to be able to lift him off it, not with her injured shoulder. She looked around the room, noticing the chair acting as a table for the first time. She pushed the tray with its multitude of instruments off the seat, trying not to look too closely at its contents, and dragged the chair closer to Dean. Standing up on it, she quickly snapped the zip-ties with the knife. They both gasped as Dean fell forward onto Jo, Dean because of the pain in his, well, everything, and Jo because of the bite of the acid that rubbed off of Dean and onto her.

Carefully, they slumped over to the wall, Jo supporting most of their weight. Jo cringed as she noticed the welts and cuts decorating his back. That demon was going to pay.

Slowly, Jo lowered him down to the floor in a sitting position and examined him more closely, looking for any injuries that needed immediate care. They needed to get out of here, but she couldn't have Dean collapsing halfway there, either. Besides, she figured the demon trap had bought them a few moments to recover.

Jo carefully inspected his wounds. Several of the cuts on Dean's chest would need stitches, as would the stab wounds above his hip and on either side of his right shoulder. Jo grimaced when she noticed his broken rib, broken, arm, and punctured hand. That demon was definitely going to pay.

Jo walked over to examine the silver tray she had knocked over. It might have something that could help her treat the multitude of injuries Dean sported.

She felt sick as she looked at the variety of torture devices the tray displayed, most of them coated in Dean's blood. All of these instruments could only inflict injuries, not heal them. Jo was about to go back to Dean with nothing when she noticed the jugs on the floor. Picking one, up, she sniffed it. It smelled like water. She took a tentative sip, and was happy to find that it was. She took a few more swigs then carried the jug back over to Dean.

"Dean. Wake up. Don't go to sleep." Jo said urgently. Slowly, Dean opened his eyes and blinked at her.

"Here have some water," Jo helped hold the jug up to his mouth, and he took several slow, pained gulps before pushing it away. He leaned his head back, his eyes closed and his face contorted in pain.

"You've got to stay awake, Dean."

"M-know. Jus' res'in'" Dean's speech was slurred with pain, but he opened his eyes again.

"I'm going to try to wash off the acid. This is going to be cold." Dean nodded, bracing himself.

Jo tipped the icy water over the burns. Dean hissed as the cold liquid splashed over him, but relaxed as the burning receded. Jo used half the jug trying to rinse off the acid. It would need a more thorough bath later, but it was better than nothing.

"Better?"

"Mmm" Dean sighed deeply, then winced as the breath aggravated his broken rib.

Jo quickly used a small bit of water to rinse off the acid that had rubbed off on her, then set it aside. Hopefully they wouldn't be here long enough to need the water, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Jo continued to inspect Dean's other injuries, but stopped when he put a hand weakly on her arm.

"'Kay?"

"I'm fine, Dean. You're the one who needs help." He didn't release the slight pressure on her arm.

"Hur'?"

"No, I'm fine."

"They…di' they…" the worry in Dean's voice was obvious, even through the pain.

"No, Dean. They tried to rape me, but I escaped," Jo told him, guessing what he was thinking "I'm ok, really." Dean released the pressure on her arm.

"I –GAH!" Dean's body suddenly seized up and he started convulsing violently.

"Dean, what is it?" Jo asked desperately, not knowing what to do. Suddenly she remembered the black collar still around his neck. Putting two and two together, she tried to undo the latch, but Dean was convulsing too much. She couldn't get it off.

Dean suddenly relaxed again, panting heavily. The electrocution had stopped, at least for now. Jo quickly moved to remove the shock collar, but before she could get it off Dean seized up again, convulsing more violently than before. Dean's face was contorted in pain, a scream escaping his lips.

"I'm going to keep increasing the voltage, sweetheart, until I get out of this trap. Unless you want it to reach a lethal level, I suggest you let me out." The demon's voice echoed from above.

There was no way in hell that Jo was going to let that bitch out, but she wasn't going to let Dean be fried either. She climbed on top of him, pinning him under her body. She scrambled to get a hold of the collar, but it was no use. He kept jerking out of her grip.

"Hold still, damn it!"

Again, Dean relaxed, and Jo immediately started undoing the collar. She was only halfway through when he suddenly convulsed again, almost throwing her off. He let out a choked scream; the voltage was getting to a dangerous level.

Seeing no other option, Jo grabbed a knife from the tray. She didn't want to cut the collar for fear of cutting Dean, so instead she rammed the butt of the knife into the shock box on the collar. Again and again she hit it, wincing when she missed and hit Dean's throat instead. Finally, the shock box sparked and smoked, and Dean went limp.

Jo immediately finished removing the collar, throwing it into a corner of the room. Dean was breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face. Jo had a suspicion that his trembling wasn't only from the cold now.

The demon let out an irritated cry. "You bitch! Let me out!"

Jo ignored her, turning her attention back to Dean. "It's ok, Dean. She won't hurt you again." She tried to reassure him, pulling him into a hug.

Dean suddenly lurched to the side, throwing up the little water she had just given him. He continued to dry-heave for several moments before finally collapsing. Jo put a hand comfortingly on his back.

It took Jo several moments to realize Dean was trying to say something through his strained breaths. "Gun?" Dean struggled to gasp out. Even weak as he was, his hunter instincts were still on par.

"The gun? What gu-" Jo was cut off by the sound of one, two, three gunshots.

Jo looked at Dean, confused. They hadn't heard anyone come into the empty barn, so what was she shooting at?

Jo's look of bewilderment changed to sudden horror as she realized what had happened. The demon had shot the floor, ruining the engraved trap.

The demon was free.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: **This chapter's been fighting me tooth and nail, so I hope the finished product is ok. I eventually decided to let it be so I could get the next chapter up more quickly

_Before: Sam tossed the bag into the trunk of the Impala and paused. What to do with the demon? He didn't want to exorcise her, in case his lead was wrong, but he couldn't leave her here to be rescued either. Seeing no other choice, he grabbed another length of rope from the Impala and went back inside. He had to take her with him._

_Before he was halfway to the door, a gunshot broke through the night, and Sam fell to the ground, a searing pain in his left arm. The demon's friends had found them sooner than expected._

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

Sam rolled back to take cover behind the Impala, gripping the bullet wound. Peeking over the hood of the car, he saw a large man coming at him holding a shotgun.

_How many freaking grunts did these demons employ? _Sam thought in exasperation. He ducked down as the man raised the shotgun and fired. The bullet embedded itself in a tree high above Sam's head. Acting quickly, Sam stood up and tackled the man while he was trying to reload. He swiftly knocked the emptied gun away and pulled the guy into a modified choke hold. Sam wrapped his legs around the man, trying to compensate for his injured arm. The man grunted and kicked, but Sam's grip didn't loosen. He absently noted the bandage he could feel on the man's left arm. It seems as though Sam wasn't the only injured one.

"Where are they?" Sam demanded.

The man didn't answer. He flailed his arms, trying to loosen Sam's hold, but to no avail.

Sam tightened his grip. "Where are the hunters?" Sam knew he couldn't keep this hold for much longer, not with his weakened arm. He swiftly drew his knife out and held it to the man's neck. "I said, where are they?"

"In a barn u-up on the m-mountain. On the r-road that goes by the l-lake. Please don't k-kill me!" the man whimpered, going slack when he felt the blade at his throat.

Sam released him roughly. "Get out of here. If you value your life, do not come back, and do not tell anyone about this." He raised the knife for emphasis.

The man turned and ran, not looking back. Judging by how quickly the man gave up, Sam figured he wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

Luckily, the man had told him what he needed to know. One of the locations Sam had researched was off the road that led by the lake. He knew where Dean and Jo were.

Sam walked back to the trunk of the Impala and pulled out the first-aid kit. Luckily the bullet had only grazed him. The wound wouldn't even needed stitches, although it hurt like hell. Sam quickly cleaned and bandaged it.

Walking confidently back into the cabin, Sam smiled at the demon. She glared back, much quieter than she had been before.

"I suppose you heard all that?" Sam inquired.

"Alvin's a moron. But don't worry, we've got other helpers. Don't forget Ryan's still out there," Rachel snapped back. "It won't be long before she sends more help."

"I'm sorry to say you don't have that long." Now that he knew where the hunters were, he had no more need of her. Sam quickly recited the exorcism spell, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction as he watched the plume of smoke melt into the ground.

Sam was almost out of the door when he heard a moan from behind him. Turning, he was surprised to see that the woman tied to the chair was still alive. Sam had thought Rachel's meatsuit was dead. Rushing over to her, he untied her bonds and she slumped against him, groaning.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked worriedly. If he had known Rachel was possessing a living person, he wouldn't have been so brutal with the knife. The woman's arms were laced with salted cuts.

"Can you hear me?" Sam put his hand behind her head, supporting it. The woman's eyes flicked open, pain written across her face. "Are you ok?"

The woman moaned again, and her eyes rolled back into her head. She was alive, but unconscious.

_Shit._ Sam needed to help her, especially since this was partly his fault, but he didn't have time for this. He needed to find his brother and Jo. Goddamn Winchester luck had to make everything difficult.

Picking up the unconscious woman, he carried her out to the Impala, laying her down gently in the backseat.

Climbing behind the wheel, Sam fired up the engine. He carefully navigated the muscle car back to the highway. The road from the cabin was covered in fresh snow, forcing Sam to drive slowly and cautiously. Thankfully, the highway was clear, allowing him to gun it. He slid once or twice on black ice, but managed to stay in control. Sam was glad Dean had taken so much time and care in teaching him to drive on ice. Though Dean insisted he did it because he didn't want his "bull-brained brother" to crash his baby, Sam knew that Dean wanted him to be safe. Now that skill was coming into use as he rushed to save this woman and then his brother.

If he remembered correctly, the nearest hospital was nearly an hour away. He didn't have time to take her there. He needed to find Dean! Seeing no other option, he navigated the car to the local police station. They should be able to help her better than he could at the moment.

Putting the car in park, he picked up the injured woman and carried her to the front of the police station. One of the officers inside saw him through the glass door and ran outside to meet him.

"What happened?" the officer demanded.

"I don't know, I found her like this. I didn't know where the hospital was, so I brought her here," Sam lied, feigning distress. "My phone died, so I couldn't call anyone," he added, trying to make his story more believable.

"It's ok, we've got her now." The police officer took the unconscious woman from Sam's arms. Sam didn't miss the double-take the officer gave him or the look of recognition that flashed across his face. Sam was afraid this might happen. As soon as the woman was safely out of his grasp, Sam turned to leave.

"Where are you going? We need to ask you some questions," the officer called after him.

"I, uh, I left my brother alone. I need to go back and make sure he's alright," Sam replied quickly, still headed towards the car.

"Hey, stop! You can't leave yet!"

Sam ignored him and walked faster. He heard the officer curse followed by the sound of a door opening. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the officer yelling at his colleagues inside, gesturing towards him frantically. The other officers reacted immediatley, running outside.

By that time Sam was already in the Impala, starting to back out. He could hear the officer's shouts of "Stop!" and "You're under arrest!" through the busted window as he swerved back onto the highway.

This was freaking great. He was afraid someone might have recognized him or the car since that old maid had called about him earlier. Now he was probably the prime suspect in not just one, but two beatings.

Sam put these thoughts aside as he sped down the highway, concentrating instead on finding Dean and Jo. He was forced to slow when he exited the highway. The road that led past the lake and then farther up the mountain was still covered in snow. Sam could faintly see faint tire tracks from the grunt's car, giving him more confidence that he was going the right way.

After about five minutes of cautious driving, Sam started to get impatient. He cursed the snow for making him waste more time in finding his brother and friend. Sam continued forward, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Suddenly, he noticed an imprint on the smooth snow in front of him. Tire tracks. They looked fresher than the tracks from the grunt's car. Looking closer, Sam noticed there was something odd about the tracks. In between the two sets of tires was a smooth line, as though something had been drug behind the car. Sam had a strange feeling that these odd tracks had something to do with the missing hunters.

Praying that he was right, Sam steered the Impala off the road, following the tracks into a break in the trees. He stopped when he saw the outline of a car in the distance. Killing the engine, he silently got out and snuck slowly towards the other vehicle, taking cover in the trees off to the side. He could faintly hear voices, but he was still too far away to make them out. Sam snuck around to the side of the figures, being careful to stay hidden. For the first time, Sam got a clear view of who these people were and what was happening. There were three figures, standing by the edge of a cliff overlooking the lake.

Sam's stomach plummeted as he took in the situation. Before he could react, one of the figures was roughly picked up and thrown off the cliff, landing in the icy waters below with a loud splash.


	16. Chapter 15

_Before: It took Jo several moments to realize Dean was trying to say something through his strained breaths. "Gun?" Dean struggled to gasp out. Even weak as he was, his hunter instincts were still on par._

_"The gun? What gu-" Jo was cut off by the sound of one, two, three gunshots._

_Jo looked at Dean, confused. They hadn't heard anyone come into the empty barn, so what was she shooting at?_

_Jo's look of bewilderment changed to sudden horror as she realized what had happened. The demon had shot the floor, ruining the engraved trap._

_The demon was free._

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

Instincts taking over, Jo quickly grabbed three knives from the floor. Handing one to Dean, she tucked another into her back pocket to join her small pocket knife and kept the other one in her hand. She helped Dean up into a sitting position and leaned him against the wall, crouching down protectively beside him.

The demon stormed down the ladder, brandishing the gun. A wild, crazed look was in her eye.

"You'll pay for that! You'll wish you were dead by the time I'm through with you!" The demon spat at Jo. "You're lucky I have more important things to deal with right now than pieces of shit like you."

The demon leaned down and started picking up the tray and weapons, the gun still pointed at the hunters. She quickly gathered the torture instruments, then looked at the hunter's weapons. "Give me your knives."

Not seeing any way to keep the exposed knives while at gunpoint, Jo and Dean tossed the knives to her. The demon counted the instruments on the tray, making sure they were all there.

"There's one missing. Give it to me." The demon glared at Jo.

"I don't know what you're-" Jo's lie was cut off at the sound of a gunshot and Dean's cry of pain. Jo stared at the blood blossoming from his left leg, shocked.

"The knife. Now. Unless you want a matching wound."

Reluctantly Jo relinquished the hidden weapon. She prayed that the angered demon wouldn't remember the pocket knife she had been wielding earlier.

Luckily, she didn't, and the demon left once the missing blade was in her possession.

As soon as the hatch swung closed, Jo turned to Dean, worry in her eyes. His body was tense and his eyes were closed as he clutched at the gunshot wound in his calf.

Jo carefully lifted his hands up and rolled up the leg of his jeans so she could examine the wound. He groaned as she felt along the back of his leg, looking for an exit wound.

"Damnit," she cursed under her breath when she didn't find one. "The bullet's still in there." There was no way she could get it out in the conditions they were in now, not without damaging his leg more. She settled for wrapping his leg in her tank top, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Condemning herself to the fact that she could do nothing else to help any of his wounds, Jo sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around him, trying her best to avoid the worst of his injuries. She wasn't very successful, though. He still grunted in pain as she situated her arms. She gently placed one hand over the hole in his side, trying to slow the bleeding a little bit. The movement elicited a sharp hiss from Dean, but he quickly relaxed into what little warmth she could offer. He was trembling violently, and the added cold from the water bath wasn't helping.

"You wanted skin to skin contact, didn't you?" Jo said jokingly.

Dean laughed weakly. "Survi'al 101."

Jo hugged him tighter as another shiver ripped through his body. Judging by the color of his lips and skin and the strength of the tremors, Dean already had moderate hypothermia. Hugging wouldn't help much, especially when she herself was cold. They needed to get out of here soon, or Dean might not make it.

Jo desperately tried to think of a way out of their predicament as she sat there attempting to warm Dean. She had the pocket knife, but that was almost useless against a demon. Besides, she couldn't wait for the demon or her minions to come back. Dean might not last that long. Looking around the cold prison, her eyes fell on the lock of the door. The pocket knife just might be small enough to pick the lock.

Gently, she moved away from Dean, quickly telling him what she was planning to do. She dragged the chair under the door and stood on it. With the added height, she could easily reach the lock. It didn't take her long to pick it with the knife.

Rushing back over to Dean, she knelt beside him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was shallow. She hoped he would be strong enough to get out of here. "Dean?" She asked worriedly, gently resting a hand on his less injured shoulder.

Dean slowly blinked his eyes open and stared at her. "Y' loo' like crap."

Jo held back a sigh of relief. If he was making wise cracks, even weakly, he should be able to get out of here. "Yeah, you don't look too great yourself, hot-stuff. Can you stand?"

Dean grunted in response, trying to stand up. Jo helped him to his feet and supported most of his weight as they limped over to the hatch. Dean paused as he looked up at the door above their heads.

"Can'," he admitted quietly.

"That's ok. Stand on the chair and maybe I can pull you through." With Jo's help, Dean managed to awkwardly climb onto the chair, leaning his weight against the wall. Jo quickly scampered up the ladder and flung the hatch open, pausing to make sure no one was in the barn. Confident that no one was there, she climbed out of the hole and turned around to help Dean up. They had to move fast. Someone might have heard the sound of the hatch opening.

She reached down and grabbed his uninjured left hand. Jo pulled with all of her strength, Dean pushing with his bullet-free leg. Slowly, Dean got closer and closer to being free of that hell-hole.

Dean's face was contorted in pain when he suddenly gasped out, "Look out!"

Before she could react, pain burst across her back as something came down on it, hard. She screamed as another impact soon followed, involuntarily loosening her grip on Dean's arm.

Dean cried out in pain as he fell back onto the chair, crushing it under his weight before landing on the floor. Jo only had a moment to notice that he wasn't moving before being yanked up by her hair. Her head was forced back as far as it would go and she found herself staring into the furious face of the demon.

"Say goodbye to your sweetheart! You won't be seeing her again," the demon called down to Dean's unconscious body. "Or at least, not in this life."

The demon roughly slammed the hatch shut and dragged Jo out of the barn by her hair, ignoring her screams of pain and worry for Dean. Outside the barn sat an old pick-up truck and Christopher. He grinned viscously at her, taking in her sparsely-clothed body before tying her hands in front of her with a length of rough rope. He tied the other end to the trailer hitch of the pick-up, took one more lustful glance at her, and then climbed into the driver's seat.

The demon grinned maniacally at her. "Hope you're a fast runner." She hopped into the truck beside the grunt.

Jo gasped as the pick-up lurched forward, the rope tugging painfully on her injured shoulder. The truck's speed quickly increased, and she soon found herself sprinting to keep up. Jo felt herself lose her footing as the pick-up sped up past her limit. She tried desperately to regain her feet, but the truck was moving too quickly. She was drug roughly behind it, her bare stomach sinking through the snow to get cut and bruised by the uneven ground.

After what felt like hours the truck jerked off the unpaved road and into a thinner part of the forest. The snow was deeper now, but it did nothing to block the rocks. Jo gasped as tree roots and sharp rocks ripped into her clothes and skin, more painful than the dull stones of the road. Snow kept getting into her mouth, making it difficult to breathe. For several more minutes, Jo was dragged along until the pick-up finally came to a stop. Jo lay face-down on the ground, trying to get a hold of herself through the pain running the length of her body.

Too soon, Jo felt herself being lifted to her feet once again and lead somewhere before coming to a halt. It took her a moment to take in her surroundings. When she finally did, she tried to back up, only to run into Christopher's massive frame.

They were standing on the edge of a cliff overlooking an icy lake. And Jo had a feeling she knew why they had come.

"You know, I would've let you go if you hadn't been an interfering little shit," Jo heard the demon say from somewhere behind Christopher. "Marvin would have taken you wherever you wanted, once he was done with you."

_That's complete bullshit_ Jo thought to herself. She remained quiet, however. She was in deep enough shit as it was without stirring the pot even more.

"It was Dean we wanted. I didn't really care about what happened to you. But then you had to go and ruin it for yourself." Jo jumped as she felt the demon suddenly put a hand on her shoulder. "Not only that, but now I'm going to make sure Dean suffers even more. His suffering would be over by now if you hadn't intervened. Now, however, I'll make sure he suffers for as long as humanly possible. Maybe even a little longer."

Jo grinded her teeth to keep back all of her snarky remarks.

"Too bad you won't be around to see it." Suddenly, Jo felt something heavy being tied to her leg, and then she was pushed forward. Next thing she knew she was tumbling over the edge of the cliff towards the dark, frigid waters below. As she fell, she briefly thought she saw something move off to the side, but she didn't have time to think more about it before she plunged headfirst into icy darkness.


	17. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Alright, from here on the story shouldn't jump around as much. Hopefully it wasn't too hard to follow before. This chapter starts with Sam and Jo reuniting.

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

Sam rushed to the edge of the cliff, hidden from the demon and the man by the trees. He didn't see Jo anywhere. The other two were getting into the truck. Sam waited until both their doors were closed then stripped off his jacket and dove into the lake.

The frigid water took his breath away. He had to come back up for air, panting, before taking in a deep lungful and diving back down, trying to find Jo. The lake was deep and the water was dark, making it difficult to see. He looked for as long as he could before he was forced to come back up for breath. Again, he took several deep breaths then dove back under. He repeated this process two more times until he finally felt his hand come into contact with skin. He had found Jo, but she wasn't moving.

Gripping under Jo's arms, Sam tried to lift the unconscious hunter up, but she was heavy. Heavier than she should have been. Sam glanced down, opening his eyes as wide as he could, trying to see more clearly. He could faintly make out something big and round tied around her feet. A weight. Sam unsheathed his knife from his boot and quickly cut the rope attaching the weight to her feet. His lungs screaming for air, he put his hands under her arms and swam up. When they broke the surface, Sam gasped air into his oxygen-starved lungs. Jo, however, wasn't moving.

Sam let himself recover for just a moment before dragging her to the shore. He had to swim a little in order to get away from the cliff and to somewhere they could climb out. Finally, they made it to shore, and Sam dragged Jo away from the water. His body was trembling from a combination of the icy water, frigid air, and physical exertion. The only thing that kept him from collapsing was the sight of Jo's pale, unmoving body.

He moved closer to the unconscious hunter. She wasn't breathing. Sam immediately started administering CPR. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his mouth to hers, passing air into her lungs. He did this again, then placed his hands on her chest and started pumping. One-two-three-four-five. After thirty compressions, she still wasn't breathing, so again he moved to mouth-to-mouth. When he was halfway through the next round of compressions, Jo suddenly gasped and choked. Sam helped roll her onto her side, water pouring out of her mouth. Jo lay there, gasping and shivering desperately. Sam sat beside her, hand on her shoulder, giving her time to recover.

"Are you ok?" he asked once her breathing started to slow.

Jo nodded. She rolled onto her back, her hand on her forehead and her eyes closed. She continued breathing deeply. As she lay there, Sam noticed the scratches and bruises running along the front of her torso for the first time.

"Jo, what happened?" he asked quietly, gesturing to her stomach.

She took a few more deep breathes before answering. "They tied me…behind the truck…and drug me to the…to the lake."

Sam didn't answer. He leaned over her, examining the cuts. While most of them were superficial, there were a few that were still bleeding. Looking more closely at these, Sam was relieved to see that none of them would need stitches.

"Can you walk?" Sam asked. Jo nodded, and Sam helped her to her feet. She was still breathing heavily, but not as bad as before. Sam wrapped his arm around her as they walked, and she did the same, for both warmth and support.

"So what happened, exactly?" Sam inquired as they struggled back to the Impala.

"We were walking back to the motel, when we heard a woman scream. We rushed to help her, but it ended up being a trap, and they drugged us both. Next thing we knew we woke up in some strange place with a demon leering at us."

"That'd be Ryan. We exorcised her ass a few years ago, but she and her sister came back, wanting revenge."

"Yeah, well, they got it. Dean and I were separated for a while, and when I saw him again …Sam, he didn't look good."

"How bad?" Sam asked quietly, fear clenching his stomach. He had been afraid to ask that question.

"He's alive, but he won't be if we don't get him out of there soon."

Sam unconsciously quickened his pace, trying to keep his fear and anger in check. There was no way in hell he was going to let his brother die. "How'd you end up out here?" he asked, trying to keep his mind off his brother's impending death.

Jo grinned slyly. "I pissed off a demon."

Sam barked a laugh, then filled her in on what had happened to him.

As they neared the Impala, Sam grabbed his jacket from where he had dropped it by the cliff and offered it to Jo, who took it gratefully. Her soaked sports bra and jeans did nothing to protect her against the cold.

When they got back to the car, Sam pulled the first aid kit out of the trunk and quickly applied a bandage over Jo's bleeding cuts. Sam dug through the duffel bags until he found some dry clothes. Tossing one of his shirts to Jo, he stripped off his own soaked shirts to replace them with dry ones, then did the same with his jeans. Unfortunately they didn't have any pants that would fit Jo, but she grabbed a blanket from the trunk and said she would be fine. Sam slipped on his spare hoodie then slammed the trunk and climbed into the front seat. Once Jo was safely in the passenger seat he revved the car up and headed back towards the road. They were both still shivering, and the icy wind blowing through the broken window wasn't helping.

As they drove, trying to ignore the cold, they planned out what they were going to do. They figured there was only the demon and the grunt, Christopher, left, so at least they wouldn't be outnumbered.

It didn't take long before they were pulling up in front of the house. Sam killed the engine, looking around warily. They could see Christopher through one of the windows of the house, a beer in hand, but he didn't notice them. The hunters slowly got out of the car, guns cocked and ready. Sam checked to make sure he had Ruby's knife in his pocket, then they moved around to the barn.

They silently opened the heavy barn door and crept inside. Jo gestured towards the hatch and Sam nodded, moving towards it. They stopped as a pained scream ripped through the silence from the closed hatch door. Dean.

Sam hadn't heard his brother scream like that before. Not even when Yellow-Eyes was torturing him. Now his brave, stoic, unwavering big brother was screaming in pure agony. The sound shook Sammy to the core.

He ran to the hatch, pulling Ruby's knife out as he went. Sam wrenched the hatch door open with a clang, determined to free his brother. Jo was right behind him, and they both dropped down through the hole, weapons ready. They froze when they saw the demon standing behind a bloodied, barely-conscious Dean, a knife to his throat.


	18. Chapter 17

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

"Come any closer, and I'll slit his throat," Ryan screeched. Sam and Jo stood still, not daring to risk it. They were both staring at Dean, was once again hanging from the ceiling. Only this time, it wasn't zip-ties holding him up. His right hand was impaled by the hook, supporting his body weight. Dean's eyes were screwed shut, tears streaming silently down his face, his breath coming in short, painful gasps.

"Put your weapons down," the demon ordered. The hunters grudgingly obeyed, slowly placing their weapons on the floor in front of them. Sam hated the feeling of vulnerability that came with the action, but they didn't have much choice. Not while a knife was a Dean's throat.

"Alright we put ours down, now you do the same," Sam answered, gesturing to the blade at his brother's neck.

Ryan laughed harshly. "You really think I'm that stupid? I thought you were the smart one, Sammy boy."

"Dean's the only one who can call me that," Sam retorted.

"Well, I don't think Dean is really able to call anybody anything right now." Her words were disproved almost immediately when Dean grunted something that sounded suspiciously like "stupid bitch." Relief flooded through Sam when he heard the words. If Dean was still able to make snarky remarks, albeit weak ones, then there was still fight left in him. He wasn't ready to keel over just yet.

Ryan, however, did not respond kindly to the insult. She swiftly swung the dagger up and across Dean's face, cutting a large slash from his forehead to his cheekbone before replacing the blade at his neck. Dean cried out, his face contorting in pain. He struggled weakly on the hook, but stopped when it aggravated his hand.

"Hey!" Sam exclaimed. He started to move towards Ryan, but he stopped when she increased the pressure on the blade, breaking skin.

"Ah, ah, ah…" she warned.

Sam angrily moved back beside Jo. "What the hell do you want?" he asked heatedly, his eyes never leaving his brother.

"Where's my sister, Sam?" Ryan asked, ignoring his question.

"Back in the pits of hell, where she belongs."

Ryan didn't move, her face unreadable. Then suddenly she threw her arm out and Sam and Jo were thrown across the room and against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of him. They were held pinned up against the wall, their feet barely brushing the floor. The demon ripped Dean's hand off the hook, eliciting a scream, and threw him back towards the other wall. He hit it hard and crumbled to the floor.

"Dean!" Sam and Jo yelled at the same time. Ryan rushed towards them, her knife raised threateningly. She plunged the blade into the wall beside Sam's head, her demon strength driving the sharp knife into the hard concrete.

"I will make you suffer, you piece of shit." Her voice was low and menacing, her mouth right by his ear. "You will feel the pain of losing someone you love. Starting with the little bitch over there." She jerked her head towards Jo. "I will make her scream and cry for mercy, plead for you to help her, and you won't be able to do a damn thing. I will draw out her suffering for as long as I possibly can, and trust me, that can be for a very long time. Then, when her cold, mutilated corpse is lying dead at your feet, I'll take your worthless brother and I'll skin him alive, right in front of you. That is, if he lives that long. I hope he does, because I would so enjoy ripping his skin off slowly, bit by bit. When both of them are finally dead in front of you, I will torture you until you beg me to kill you. And then, maybe, if I'm feeling generous, I will." She unsheathed the knife from the wall then plunged it into his arm, directly above the gunshot wound. Sam grunted, fighting the urge to scream. "Shall we begin?"

Jo suddenly dropped to the floor, released from the demon's powers. Before she can react, Ryan grabs the back of her shirt, throwing her into the middle of the room where Sam could see her clearly. Jo slid across the smooth floor, bumping into the discarded weapons as she went. The guns and knife skidded to the far wall, out of Jo's reach.

Ryan jumped after her, trapping Jo beneath her weight. She shifted them both around so that she and Jo were facing Sam, blocking Dean from his view. "You're going to regret hurting my sister, Samuel Winchester."

The demon ripped the over-sized jacket off of Jo's shoulders and pinned her arm down flat. The knife flashed as Ryan plunged it into Jo's left forearm, carving something Sam couldn't see into her vulnerable flesh. Jo screamed as the blade sliced through her arm, hot blood pouring out of the fresh wounds.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Sam pleaded desperately. Pinned to the wall as he was, he was powerless to do anything but beg. Just as Ryan wanted.

Ryan finished carving and viciously jerked Jo's arm up so Sam could read the engraved letters. The word _bitch_ stood out in red in sharp contrast to the pale white of Jo's arm. Tears flooded down the female hunter's face. Before Sam could react to the word, Ryan placed one hand on Jo's shoulder and another on her arm and pulled. With a sickening pop, Jo's shoulder once again twisted out of place, causing her to howl in agony. Ryan grinned at the sound.

"Hear that, Sammy? Her pain? That's all thanks to you." Ryan slashed the knife down Jo's side. Sam met Jo's eyes as she gasped in pain. Her pained gaze told him to fight this fugly son of a bitch and kill her sorry ass. The look steeled Sam's determination and he decided he wasn't going to give the demon the reaction she wanted from him.

Seeing no reaction from Sam, Ryan violently threw Jo to the ground. She looked around the small room and sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, I took all of the toys I used on your brother out of the room. But don't worry, I can be very creative with a knife." Ryan sunk to her knees over Jo. She raised the knife to plunge it into the hunter's side, but the knife never hit its mark. Ryan's body shook as something rammed into her back. The demon screamed and light flashed from the depths of her body, then the demon slumped forward, dead. The hilt of a knife protruded from the demon's back. Ruby's knife.

Sam dropped to the ground as the demon died. Looking up, he saw Dean across the room, supporting himself weakly on one arm, laying by where the discarded weapons had landed. As Sam watched, his brother collapsed to the floor as the spurt of adrenaline faded away.

Sam glanced at Jo, who was shoving the demon's corpse off herself. Jo met his eyes and nodded, telling him to go to Dean and not worry about her for the moment. Sam rushed across the room, sliding to his knees as he reached his brother's side.

Dean was unconscious. His heart in his throat, Sam frantically checked for a pulse. He panicked when he didn't feel one. Checking again, he breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a faint pulse beneath his fingers. A very faint pulse. Dean was alive, but barely.

Sam took a moment to check over the rest of Dean. There were too many cuts and bruises to inventory at the moment, but Sam did note how pale and cold he was and the blue tinge in his lips and fingers. Sam stripped off his hoodie and wrapped it around his brother.

"Is he alright?" Jo crouched down beside Sam, having freed herself from the demon's weight.

"He's alive," Sam replied shortly. He was afraid if he said anymore, admitted how bad his brother's condition was, he would break down. He couldn't afford to do that right now. Dean needed him.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked, glancing at her wounds.

Jo nodded. "I can manage. We need to get him out of here," she said, gesturing to Dean's broken body. She glanced back to the ladder. "Can you carry him out?"

It was Sam's turn to nod. "Don't have much choice, do we?"

Sam carefully lifted Dean up, ignoring the pain in his injured arm. He shifted him to a fireman's carry and walked towards the ladder.

"Wait! Grab the knife!" Sam called, turning. Jo quickly unsheathed the knife from the demon's back and scooped up the guns. She then scampered up the ladder, a little awkwardly because of her re-injured shoulder. Sam followed after, moving slowly, trying to balance Dean with one arm while pulling them both up with the other. Luckily the ladder wasn't tall, and it wasn't long before Jo was pulling Dean off of Sam's shoulders, allowing him to climb out. Sam immediately picked Dean back up and started running towards the door, Jo at his side.

As they were rounding the corner of the house, they almost ran into Christopher. A look of surprise passed over the man's face, and he backed up a few steps. Jo immediately pulled out one of the guns and clicked the safety off.

"The demon's dead. Run, before I shoot you," she threatened.

Christopher turned and ran without hesitation. With both his bosses dead and all prospects of a paycheck gone, he had no reason to risk his neck trying to stop them.

The hunters crossed the short distance to the Impala. Jo grabbed the spare blanket and the first aid kit from the trunk as Sam gently laid Dean down across the backseat. Jo slid in beside the unconscious hunter, lifting his head to rest in her lap. She tossed the blanket over the hypothermic hunter, then opened the first aid kit, digging for the gauze to press against the worst of his wounds.

"Get us to the hospital, fast!" Jo called from the backseat.

"Dean can't go to the hospital," Sam replied grimly as he climbed behind the wheel.

"Why the hell not?"

"Shapeshifter back in St. Louis made sure that he's at the top of the FBI's most wanted list. Soon as we check him in there will be cops crawling all over the place."

Jo groaned, but didn't push the matter. "Then get us to the motel!"

"Can't go there either."

"Damnit, Sam, why not?"

"As of this morning, I'm suspect #1 in two beatings. Cops will be watching the motel." Sam answered heatedly, angry with himself.

"Then where the hell can we go?"

"I've got a place," Sam said. He sped the Impala down the hill, throwing safety to the wind. He needed to help his brother. Once he hit the highway, he pointed the car towards the old cabin and floored it.


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N: **I am so sorry for the long delay! My life got really crazy what with tests and band stuff and more tests. But hopefully I should be able to update more often now! I had a really hard time writing this chapter for some reason, so I hope it's ok. Thanks to those of you who have reviewed, it really means a lot! Enjoy!

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

"We can't take him in there!" Jo exclaimed when Sam pulled up in front of the abandoned cabin.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Someplace warm and clean! Sam, he needs…" Jo was cut off by a moan from Dean. He was slowly and painfully coming back to consciousness.

"S'mmy?" Dean groaned, searching for his brother through hazy eyes.

"I'm right here Dean. It's ok." Sam reassured him. Dean visibly relaxed at the sound of Sam's voice.

"Dem'n…" Dean moaned, ever the hunter.

"It's alright. She's dead. You killed her."

"Y' sure?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm sure."

"We're going to move you into the house now, Dean. Ok?" Jo asked.

Dean blinked up at her, seeming to notice her for the first time. "Jo?"

"Yeah, it's me, Dean. You ready to move?"

"Hur's…" Sam froze when he heard the slurred word. He couldn't remember the last time Dean had admitted to being in pain. This was not a good sign.

"I know. We're going to fix that. We just have to move you first, ok?" Jo asked gently.

Dean didn't answer. Sam climbed out of the Impala and carefully picked up his injured brother, still wrapped in a blanket and hoodie. Dean's face contorted with pain when Sam lifted him up, but he didn't make a sound. Sam carried him inside and placed him on the moth-eaten couch, Jo following close on his heels with the first-aid kit. Sam grimly noticed the blue tinge to Dean's fingers and lips and the shivers that continued to rack his body.

"He's hypothermic. We need to get a fire started," Sam told Jo urgently.

"I'll go get firewood."

As she left the room, Sam slowly lifted the blanket and jacket covering Dean and got his first good look at Dean's injuries. He breathed in sharply when he saw the extent of the wounds. Jo had inventoried Dean's injuries to him on the ride over here, but he wasn't prepared for this. Cuts and slashes covered his torso, and his right arm was a mangled mess. His right side was bright red as though from a burn, and the little skin that could be seen beneath all the blood was a mottled black and blue.

"Oh, Dean. I'm so sorry," he said softly, replacing the covers.

Jo came back in the room with an armful of wood and started to build a fire in the fireplace.

"How you doing, Dean?" Sam asked worriedly.

Dean didn't answer. Sam leaned in to examine his eyes. There was no sign of a concussion, but the green orbs were glassy and unfocused.

"Don't worry, Jo's getting a fire started. We're going to get you warm real soon."

"S'mmy, hur's. Make i' stop. Please," Dean groaned deliriously.

Sam's heart broke at the sound of his brother's plead. Dean never asked for help, and he certainly never pleaded. His big brother had always been strong for him. Now it was Sam's turn to return the favor.

"I will. I promise." Sam assured him softly. Dean groaned and closed his eyes, face twisted in pain. Sam wanted nothing more than to dope him up on pain-killers, to make him numb to his injuries, but he knew he couldn't do that until they had the hypothermia and bleeding under control.

After pushing the couch closer to the fireplace, Sam pulled the rubbing alcohol and thread and needle out of the first aid kit. He grimaced when he saw how low they were on thread. They were going to need more than what they had to stitch up Dean. Turning back to Dean, he examined the fresh slash on his head. It wasn't too deep, but it was still bleeding freely.

"I'm going to stitch up your head. It might sting a little, ok?" Dean didn't answer. Sam quickly cleaned the wound and carefully stitched it up. Dean winced a little, but other than that he stayed still. Years of hunting injuries had gotten them both used to the feel of stitches.

As Sam finished tending the wound, Jo walked over carrying several water bottles.

"I warmed up some water," she said, her eyes on Dean.

"Thanks," Sam took the bottles and placed one at Dean's armpits, neck, and crotch. Dean squirmed away from the warm objects.

"You need to stay still, Dean," Sam said urgently, placing his hand on Dean's less injured arm.

"Hur's…too hot," Dean moaned.

"I know, Dean, but it's for your own good. We need to get you warm."

"No, hur's," Dean struggled harder. Sam noticed worriedly that several of the wounds had started bleeding more with the movement.

"Dean, you need to stop."

"No…"

Sam took in a deep breath. "Dean Winchester, stop struggling right now. You're going to hurt yourself even more, and this is for your own good," Sam bellowed, channeling his father. Dean stilled right away. Sam hated to do that, but it was the only sure-fire way he knew to make Dean listen when he was delirious like this.

"Thank you," Sam breathed out.

"Here, drink this," Jo said softly, raising a water bottle to Dean's lips. He managed to take a few small sips before he started coughing. Jo took the bottle away, giving him room to recover. After a minute, the coughing fit subsided and Dean leaned back, exhaustion and pain marring his face.

"Do you think you can drink some more?" Jo asked gently. Dean shook his head slightly. Jo sighed, resigned, and turned to Sam.

"Let's get that bullet out of his leg."

Sam nodded and grabbed the scissors while Jo dug out the tweezers. Sam cut through the leg of Dean's pants, revealing the ugly bullet wound. It was red and puffy, and it oozed a combination of blood and pus. Sam grimaced as Jo quickly cleaned the wound. Jo paused as she picked up the tweezers.

"Dean, this is going to hurt." Dean didn't give any sign of hearing her. "Hold him down," Jo added quietly to Sam.

Sam pressed his hands down on Dean's leg, securing it in place. Jo gently eased the tweezers into the wound, moving through muscle as she tried to find the bullet. Dean tensed and screamed as the tweezers entered the wound. He involuntarily tried to kick out his leg, but Sam held him firmly down. By the time Jo had extracted the bullet, Dean had passed out from pain. Sam was secretly grateful his brother didn't have to be conscious for the rest of their ministrations.

"Shit, he's lost a lot of blood," Jo said quietly when she had finished stitching up the wound and covered it in gauze. "He needs more."

"I know," Sam replied grimly. He had been thinking the same thing, but there wasn't anything they could do about that now. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at his brother, trying to decide what to do next, what was the most urgent.

"Can you take care of the burn? I'll start cleaning out the wound in his side," Sam said after a moment's thought. Jo nodded and went to the kitchen to get more water to warm up. Ideally they would use cool water to take care of the burn, but since Dean was still hypothermic, warm water would have to do.

Sam carefully cleaned out the stab wound. It was a deep, but by some miracle it hadn't punctured any organs or gotten infected. Sam slowly stitched the first layer of muscle together, once again glad Dean didn't have to be awake for this. Jo walked over and started washing the burn with warm water as Sam started on the next layers of stitches.

After several minutes Sam placed a layer of gauze over the now closed wound. He glanced at Dean's mangled right arm and felt his stomach twist involuntarily. Broken bones he knew how to handle, but the hand…

"Do you have any idea how to fix his hand?" Sam asked Jo quietly. She stopped pouring the water and examined the puncture wound.

"I have no idea, Sam," she sighed after a moment. "The hook went straight through his hand. I don't know what to do."

Sam chewed his lip, trying to think of what to do. The hospital was out of the question. Maybe if they could find some small-town doctor that wouldn't ask many questions…

"Mom would know what to do," Jo said quietly, as if to herself.

"Your mom!" Sam exclaimed, causing Jo to jump. "She's on her way! She can help!" Sam pulled out his phone.

"What? Why is she on her way?" Jo asked quickly.

"She called me earlier. She was worried about you."

"You told her where I was?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry."

Jo sighed. "It's fine. At least she'll be here soon."

Sam walked into the kitchen as he dialed Ellen's number.

Ellen picked up immediately. "Sam! What's happening? Did you find them? Are they all right?"

"Yeah, Ellen, I found them."

"Oh, thank God. How are they?"

"Dean's…not good. He's lost a lot of blood, and that bitch messed him up pretty bad. Jo's ok. She…" Sam paused as he glanced over at Jo. For the first time since finding Dean, he took in her condition. Even through the baggy, oversized shirt, he could see her shoulder was still dislocated. Blood soaked through the fabric at her forearm and her side. Sam silently kicked himself for not checking her over sooner. He had completely forgotten the torture she had gone through in his concern for his brother.

"She's a little banged up, but she'll survive."

Ellen sighed in relief. "Thank you, Sam, for finding them. I'll be there soon, I'm about three hours out."

"Great. Would you mind picking up some medical supplies? We need surgical thread, and some stronger pain meds wouldn't hurt. And some O-positive blood."

"I'm on it."

"Thanks, Ellen. And we're not at the motel anymore, we're at a cabin off 82."

"Why are you there?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you when-"

"SAM!" Jo's urgent yell cut him off.

"Ellen, I've got to go. Something's wrong." He hung up and ran back into the living room to see Jo trying to roll Dean onto his side as he convulsed violently on the couch.


	20. Chapter 19

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

Sam cursed as he rushed to the couch and helped Jo carefully roll Dean onto his side, grabbing the blanket and jacket off his legs to keep him from getting tangled in it. Once Dean was safely situated, they stepped back just far enough to give him room but close enough to grab him if he started to fall off the couch. They watched in silent horror as Dean convulsed violently, the seizure causing him to vomit what little substance was left in his stomach. It took every ounce of constraint Sam had to keep himself from trying to comfort his brother, from trying to hold him still. But he could do nothing but watch as the seizure ripped through his brother's tortured body.

After two agonizingly long minutes, the convulsions slowed to tremors, then finally stopped altogether. Dean lay on the couch, breathing heavily, his exhausted muscles still trembling occasionally. When he was sure the seizure was over, Sam tentatively walked up to Dean and placed his hand gently on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner. Dean didn't react to the touch. His eyes were open, staring blankly ahead, not comprehending what he was seeing.

"Dean?" Sam asked, his voice quiet and worried. Dean didn't respond, just continued staring without unseeing and gasping for breath. Fear clenched Sam at the sight of his brother's unresponsive body.

"Here," Jo said, coming up beside Sam and handing him a warm washcloth. He hadn't even noticed she had left the room.

Sam took the washcloth and started cleaning up the bile off Dean's chest as Jo re-situated the blankets and jacket.

"He's never had a seizure before," Sam spoke quietly, fear evident in his voice. He was trying hard to keep it together, to not break down. That seizure had scared him more than he was willing to admit. If only Dean would react somehow, show some sign that he was aware of what was happening, anything….

"When I first found him, there was a shock collar around his neck," Jo said softly. "The demon shocked him a couple of times while I was there, and judging by his reaction, the voltage was pretty high." She didn't say any more. She didn't have to; the implication was there. Who knew what damage that much electricity had done to Dean's nervous system?

Dean suddenly moaned and turned his head. "Dean?" Sam asked gently, not sure what state of mind his brother was in at the moment.

Dean's unfocused eyes started flitting frantically around the room as though trying to take everything in at once. He moaned again and tried desperately to get up.

"Dean, you need to stay still," Sam said urgently, putting a hand gently but firmly on Dean's shoulder. With all of his wounds, trying to stand up and move around was the last thing his brother needed to do.

Dean flailed his arms out at Sam's touch, batting weakly at his hand. Sam released his grip and Dean squirmed away, cowering into the couch, eyes still darting around wildly.

"Hey, Dean, it's ok, it's me. It's Sam," he said soothingly, holding his hands up where Dean could clearly see them.

Dean's eyes slowly focused on Sam. "Sammy?" he whimpered.

"Yeah, Dean. It's me." Dean reached his hand out toward Sam, grabbing his arm in a vice-like grip. He held onto it desperately, like it was a lifeline keeping him anchored while he tried to comprehend the situation.

"Where we?" Dean sounded confused and worried and his tongue was thick and unresponsive. His eyes still darted about frantically.

"We're in a cabin in the woods. It's ok, there's nothing to be afraid of," Sam replied gently. It took a moment for Dean to understand what he was saying, but when he did he seemed to relax a little. They sat in silence for several minutes, Dean's grip on Sam's arm never loosening, neither of them speaking, neither of them moving except for Dean's wide eyes.

When Dean seemed to be relatively calm again, Jo brought him a glass of water. "Here. I crushed some painkillers in it." She gently lifted the cup to his mouth and he drank tentatively, still clinging to Sam's arm. After he had drained half the glass, Dean stopped and laid his head back, his eyes drifting close. Soon after he fell into a fitful slumber.

Sam let out a shaky breath, gently easing his brother's hand off his arm. That was an experience he'd rather not have to witness again. He'd rather face off against a whole horde of vampires or pack of werewolves than have to see his brother like that again. Hell, he'd rather take on a gang of clowns.

"He pulled some stitches," Jo said, helping Sam to focus on the still-pressing issue of his injured brother. "Is there any more thread?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "There might be some hidden somewhere in the trunk, but it's not likely."

"Can't hurt to check." Jo started to walk out of the room.

"Wait!" Sam called after her. Jo stopped and turned. "Let's fix your shoulder first."

"I'm fine, Sam. It can wait."

"You're fine, right. That's why you've been walking around with your arm pressed against your stomach and wincing every two seconds."

Jo sighed, and relented. "Make it quick. Dean still needs help."

Sam positioned himself behind her, one hand on her dislocated shoulder, the other on her back. "On three. One…" He abruptly twisted the shoulder back into place. Jo let out a yelp and doubled over, clutching her shoulder.

"I hate it when you do that," she groaned through gritted teeth.

"How're the cuts on your arm and side?"

"They're fine. I patched them up already." She pushed her sleeve up to show him the bandage on her forearm. "It'll need a few stitches later, when we have the supplies, but its fine for now. How's your arm?" she countered, glancing at his blood-soaked sleeve.

Sam had forgotten about his own injuries. The bullet graze and the knife stab in his left arm had both stopped bleeding, but the stab wound would also need stitches. For now, he settled for letting Jo quickly clean and bandage it. She then went out to the Impala in search of more thread.

As Jo left, Sam paused to collect himself while he had a moment alone. Taking several deep, steadying breaths, Sam steeled himself, putting memories from the seizure behind him. His breaths sounded offensively loud in the sudden quietness of the room. Of the too quiet room…

Head snapping up, Sam rushed back to the couch. The heavy breaths that his brother had been taking had stopped, filling the room with a deafening silence. Placing a finger under Dean's nose, Sam felt a faint, uneven breath and heaved a sigh of relief. The quiet was due to Dean sleeping, nothing more. Sam was getting jumpy, the strain of finding and caring for his brother finally catching up to him.

Looking at Dean's face, Sam thought that maybe his overreaction wasn't without reason. Dean's skin was pale and waxy, his breath was ragged, and blood was already seeping through several of the bandages. He was alive, but he was fading. The excursion of the seizure had taken a lot out of him that he didn't have. _He's lost too much blood_ Sam thought desperately. Ellen should be bringing more. _How long did she say she would be? Three hours? Can he last that long?_Sam knew Dean was strong and wouldn't give up easily. He would fight death tooth and nail if he had to. But everyone had their limits, even his superhero brother.

Sam was so lost in his worried thoughts that he didn't hear Jo re-enter the room, and he jumped when she spoke.

"Sam, are you and Dean the same blood type?"

"Yeah, why?"

Jo held up an IV line triumphantly. "I think I just found Dean some more blood."

Overwhelming relief flooded through Sam. _Something's finally going right._ "Where'd you get that?"

"You tell me, it was in your trunk." Jo grinned. "Let's get you hooked up."

Sam didn't know where the IV line had come from. He didn't remember it being in there the last time he checked. Then again, Dean was always picking up useful items whenever he could, a habit he had gotten from their father. Apparently that brilliant son of a bitch had managed to swipe an IV line from a hospital somewhere.

Sam gently lifted Dean up and slid behind him. Since he was going to have to sit still for the blood transfer, he might as well lend Dean his body heat at the same time. Sam winced as he felt the welts and cuts on Dean's back.

With his unhindered hand, Sam helped Jo clean off the rest of Dean's chest wounds. Once the blood and gore was cleared, they were finally able to see the extent of the wounds.

"These look like tally marks," Jo pointed to the parallel slashes. "36 of them. Why 36?"

"That's the number of victims Ryan and Rachel murdered before we found them last time," Sam answered despondently.

They continued tending to Dean in silence for a while, Jo stitching and cleaning, Sam warming and transfusing. After about 30 minutes, Jo glanced at Sam and cursed.

"Crap, Sam, you're really pale. We need to get you off the line."

"No!" Sam yelled as Jo moved to unhook the IV. "Dean still needs blood."

"So do you. You'll be no help to him if you pass out from blood loss."

"I'm fine. I can keep going."

"Sam, you're pale as a ghost. If I didn't know any better, I'd shoot you full of rock salt. Now let me take out the damn line before you pass out and I have two unconscious Winchesters to tend to."

Sam relented, knowing she was right. He was already feeling light-headed from blood loss, and knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer. At least Dean's lips weren't blue anymore.

Sam swayed as he stood up. Jo put out an arm to help steady him.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just a little dizzy. Give me a moment." He leaned over, putting his head between his legs and taking deep, steady breaths. The sudden dizziness reminded him that he hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. None of them had.

Once the dizzy spell had passed, Sam rummaged through the duffel bag for something to eat. His efforts were rewarded with two brightly-wrapped protein bars. Handing one to Jo, he quickly unwrapped his own and ate half of it. He saved the other half for Dean in case he was hungry when he woke up. Hopefully Ellen would bring more food.

Their hunger slightly sated, Sam and Jo went back to tending Dean with their limited supplies, praying for Ellen to get there soon.

**A/N:** I am by no means a medical expert, so I hope what Sam and Jo are doing are correct. I've never seen anyone have a seizure before, but my dog has seizures, so I based Dean's seizure on my experiences with that. My dog always lies unresponsive for a minute or two before getting up and exploring the house as though he doesn't remember it. He's always really thirsty, pants a lot, and then sleeps for a while. Anyway, I hope you liked it. Thanks again for following the story and for the reviews, they mean the world to me and motivate me to write more! The next chapter should hopefully be up in the next few days. I'm not sure how many more chapters this story will be, but don't worry, it shouldn't be much longer.


	21. Chapter 20

_**Chapter Twenty**_

Jo's eyes tried to drift close as she sat on the couch, Dean leaning against her chest. This was the first break she'd taken since being rescued. Now that she was sitting still, exhaustion was finally catching up to her and she was finding it difficult to stay awake.

Sam was out trying to find more wood for the dying fire. The small wood pile they had found outside the cabin had been quickly exhausted, so as soon as it was light enough outside to walk without tripping, Sam had gone in search of more useable wood.

Jo adjusted her position slightly, shaking her head to keep herself awake. No matter how tired she was, she couldn't go to sleep yet. Not while she was the only one here to take care of Dean. Not when he could wake up at any moment. Not after last time.

About an hour ago, Sam had been out of the room and Jo had been warming her hands by the fire when something slammed into her back. When she had turned around, Dean had been collapsed on the floor. He had apparently woken up without her noticing, and, seeing only the back of a blonde female and being delirious with pain, had jumped to conclusions and assumed she was the demon. His hunter instincts kicked in and he attacked her with the closest thing to him: a water bottle. He had slammed it into her back with all the adrenaline-fueled force he could muster, but had unbalanced himself in the process and crashed painfully to the floor. When Sam ran into the room moments later, Dean was sprawled on the floor, desperately trying to fend off Jo with the water bottle. It had taken several minutes to calm Dean down enough to realize that Jo wasn't the demon and that there was no immediate danger. After resituating him on the couch, they had coaxed him into taking more pain killers before he drifted off to sleep again.

Dean had pulled several stitches in his escape attempt and had aggravated his arm and rib in the fall. Sam and Jo fixed him up the best they could, but they quickly ran out of gauze. With no thread, no bandages, and an unconscious Dean, they couldn't do much else besides continuing to warm him up and waiting for Ellen to arrive.

Now Jo sat behind him, lending him her body warmth while keeping her face where he could clearly see it if he woke up. They didn't need him mistaking her for the demon again and injuring himself even more.

Dean moaned quietly, pain lines marring his face even in sleep. Jo absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him. God, she hoped her mother got here soon.

A gust of wind ripped through the room as Sam opened the door of the cabin. He closed it quickly and dropped the wood by the fireplace, his face flushed from the cold.

"How is he?" Sam asked over his shoulder as he stoked the fire.

"The same. He hasn't moved at all since you left." Sam nodded stiffly in response, feeding more wood to the flames. Even from her position on the couch, Jo could tell that he was tense with worry and exhaustion.

"You know, Ash hasn't always had a mullet," Jo said once the fire was blazing again.

Sam turned and blinked at her. "What?"

"When I first met him, Ash didn't have a mullet. He had a full-blown head of hair, longer than yours."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm trying to lighten the mood. We can't do much more until Mom gets here or Dean wakes up, so you can either sit and listen to my story or we can wait in awkward silence. Your choice."

Sam stared at her incredulously for a moment before dragging over an old armchair from the corner of the room. "Alright. So, Ash's hair?"

"About three years ago the Roadhouse was empty except for the two of us. All the patrons had left and Mom was off doing something, I don't remember what." She spoke quietly so as not to wake Dean. "Anyway, we were playing pool when Ash decided to turn it into a drinking game. Pretty simple, you miss the hole, you take a shot. It took about an hour before we were really drunk. Ash sucks at pool, so he was drunker than I was. When he was lining up a shot, he somehow managed to drop his gum into his hair. I don't know how he did it, but he got it stuck pretty badly. Bad enough that the old peanut butter trick didn't work. That or we were just too drunk to get the peanut butter trick to work. He started talking about how he, and I quote, 'ain't gonna walk around with a head full of pink blob,' and the next thing I knew, he'd grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a big chunk of hair off the left side of his head. And, of course, Mom chose that moment to walk in, right when Ash was walking around the bar, triumphantly holding up the gum-filled hair like a trophy. She wasn't too happy to see this, especially considering how drunk we were, and she immediately sat him down and cut off the same amount of hair from the other side. Not sure why she did it, maybe her maternal instincts kicked in and she was trying to teach him a lesson for getting so drunk (and for letting me get so drunk). If she meant it as punishment, it backfired. He got a mullet that night and he's refused to change it ever since."

"So, a little piece of gum is the real reason Ash has a mullet? Not some homage to the eighties? "

"Pretty much."

Sam threw his head back, shoulders shaking with laughter. The story wasn't that funny, but the stress he had been under was finally catching up to him, and he couldn't hold back the laughter. Jo joined in, trying in vain to keep it quiet. Soon they were both laughing hysterically, releasing all the built-up tension of the last 36 hours. Their laughter increased tenfold when Sam leaned back too far in the chair and it suddenly reclined, causing him to topple over with a curse. Thankfully the noise didn't wake Dean up.

Thirty minutes later and Sam and Jo were still swapping stories and telling jokes in quiet gaiety. They didn't stop until the sound of tires on gravel interrupted them.

"Oh thank God. Ellen's here," Sam said, walking quickly towards the door. Jo squirmed out from under Dean, trying to disturb him as little as possible. By the time she had extracted herself and resituated the blanket on Dean, her mom and Sam were coming into the cabin, their arms loaded with medical supplies.

"Jo! Are you alright?" Ellen asked immediately upon seeing her daughter.

"I'm fine, Mom, don't worry." Ellen set down the supplies in her arms and pulled her daughter into a tight hug. She released Jo, then promptly smacked her on the shoulder.

"Don't you ever run off like that again Joanna Beth! Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, I…ow! Stop it!" Jo moved back a step as her mother slapped her again before pulling her into another tight hug.

"I was so worried," Ellen said into Jo's hair.

"I know, I'm sorry," Jo said, hugging her back.

"Sam said you were hurt," Ellen held Jo at arm's length, critical eyes scanning her for signs of injury. Her mouth tightened at the sight of the blood on the over-sized shirt and the bandages on her arm.

"I'll be ok, I took care of it. Dean's the one that needs help." Ellen checked her over one more time before nodding.

"Where is he?" Jo gestured to the couch.

"Oh my God," Ellen whispered as she rounded the couch and saw Dean's broken body. She lifted the blanket off his chest and winced when she saw the myriad of wounds decorating it. "Christ."

She started examining Dean with deft fingers. Years of working at the Roadhouse had made her accustomed to tending to wounded hunters.

"We stitched him up the best we could before we ran out of thread and bandages. He's managed to pull a few stitches since then," Sam explained.

"How'd he do that?" Ellen inquired as she pressed gently into Dean's side, checking for any signs of internal damage.

"He woke up not too long ago, panicked, and tried to make a break for it. Before that, he had a, a seizure," Sam faltered a little at the last part.

Ellen paused in her examination and looked at Sam. "He had a seizure?"

"Yeah," Sam answered quietly.

"God, you never do anything halfway, do you?" she murmured to Dean. She finished taking stock of Dean's injuries and turned to the other two hunters.

"You two start stitching up the rest of these wounds. I'm going to get him hooked up to the IV's." Sam and Jo nodded and immediately went to work. Ellen found a floor lamp in the dining room to hang the IV bags from. Once she had the IV's set and dripping at an acceptable rate, Ellen took Dean's vitals using the equipment she had brought.

"How is he?" Sam asked nervously as Ellen removed the pressure cuff from Dean's bicep.

"His blood pressure is low, but that's to be expected. The IV's should help with that. He's running a slight fever, but it's nothing to be worried about yet. If he keeps going the way he is, I think he should survive."

"Thank God," Sam sighed at the good news. "What about his hand? Will it be ok?"

Ellen looked the hand for a moment, then sighed. "This is beyond my level of expertise. But I know someone who's patched up hunters before who can help. As soon as Dean's well enough to travel, we'll take him there. For now, all we can do is bandage it." Ellen quickly put her words into action, swathing the hand in a thick layer of gauze.

"Now," Ellen said, turning to Sam and Jo. "You two are going to eat and get some sleep."

"Not yet. Dean still needs help, and I haven't finished the stitches…" Ellen held up a hand to stop Sam.

"Dean won't die if you take a moment to care for yourself, Sam. Don't worry, I'll watch him closely and wake you if anything goes wrong. But right now you are going to eat the food I brought and then you are going to rest. You look like death warmed over."

"But…"

"Sam Winchester, don't think I won't slap you if you don't do as I say. Now eat." Sam sighed and complied. Jo handed him one of the sandwiches Ellen had brought. Once he started eating, he was surprised at how hungry he actually was. He quickly wolfed down the sandwich, then indulged in a bag of chips from the sack of food. It didn't take long before both he and Jo had eaten their fair share. Sam had to admit, he felt much better with a full stomach.

Hunger saturated, Sam turned his attention back to Dean. Before he could do anything, however, Ellen batted him away.

"No. Now you need to get some sleep."

"Ellen, I feel fine. Eating helped. I can still…ow!" Sam brought his hand up to his stinging face. Ellen wasn't lying when she said she would slap him. Sam could have sworn he heard Jo giggle behind him, but when he glanced at her, her face was passive.

"You sit your ass down and get some sleep. You don't want Dean to wake up and see you falling over from exhaustion, do you?"

Sam grudgingly sat down on the recliner, carefully leaning it back so it wouldn't dump him on the floor again. Jo took the worn-down loveseat. While there was probably a bed or two somewhere in the house, this was the only room that offered in source of warmth. Besides, neither of them wanted to be too far away from Dean.

Three hours later, Sam woke up with a shiver. Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, he glanced at the fire. Once again, it was reduced to embers, and the wood pile he had gathered was gone. Sam made a mental note to get more wood soon. Yawning, Sam looked around the room. Jo was still asleep, curled into a tight ball, and Ellen sat in a dining room chair by the couch, reading a book. Dean appeared to still be asleep.

"Hey Sam," Ellen said quietly when she noticed he was awake.

"How's Dean?" Sam asked groggily.

"He's fine. Or, at least, he hasn't gotten worse. We'll need to change some of the bandages soon, though. Some of them are starting to bleed through." Sam nodded, dragging himself out of the chair to kneel by the couch.

Dean didn't look as pale as he had before Sam went to sleep. The fluids and blood Ellen had brought seemed to be helping a lot. His fingers and lips were no longer blue, and he seemed to be breathing a little easier, although pain lines still marred his face.

"Have you given him any pain meds?" Sam looked over at Ellen.

"We've only got oral ones, and he hasn't woken since I've gotten here. The last time he got anything was whenever you last gave him some." Sam nodded again.

Sam gently brushed his brother's matted hair off of his forehead. Dean stirred at the touch, green eyes slowly blinking open.

"Sammy?" he croaked.

"Hey, Dean. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's ok." Dean stared at him critically through eyes still hazy with pain and sleep. "You ok?"

Sam would have laughed at the question if it didn't hurt so much at the same time. Leave it to Dean to put his brother before himself. "Yeah, Dean, I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy," Dean groaned, his voice defying his words.

"Well, you look like crap."

"Still better looking than you."

Sam tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile. Yeah, Dean was feeling better. "Jerk," he scoffed.

"Bitch."

"Do you want some more painkillers?"

"Well, since you offered…" Sam helped Dean sit up enough to take the pills. When he managed to drain an entire glass of water, albeit slowly, Sam offered him some crackers that Ellen had brought. Dean managed to eat a few before having to stop. He leaned back against the couch, feeling drained from the slight exertion.

"Sammy?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah?" Sam answered as he put the box of food away.

"Do you ever think about…?" Dean paused.

"Do I ever think about what?" Sam prompted gently.

"Never mind, it's stupid."

"What is it?" Sam asked again, his interest peaked. Before Dean could say anything else, however, the sound of tires crunching on gravel could be heard from outside. Sam looked at Ellen, puzzled. Who would be coming here?

Ellen set her book down and peeked through the moth-eaten curtains.

"Sam?" Ellen said quietly, an urgent note in her voice. "Do you care to explain why the police are at our door?"

**A/N:** Sorry, I know the story with Ash isn't the best, but it was the best I could do in a short period of time. And I know I've said it a thousand times, but I'm going to say it again: thanks for reading and for the reviews! I really do appreciate it! I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can.


	22. Chapter 21

_**Chapter Twenty-One**_

"What?" Sam ran to the window and peeked through. There was a squad car parked outside and two police officers were examining the Impala. "Shit."

"Sam, do you know why the police are here?" Ellen repeated, her voice low but urgent.

"How the hell should I know? I mean, Dean and I are both wanted by the police right now, but there's no reason they should come _here_!" Sam's voice was strained. "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless…the girl that Rachel had possessed. She was still alive, and I took her to the police station. She was pretty out of it, but she might have been able to recognize this place. Shit! They're probably investigating her beating."

"And you would be a suspect in that?"

"Yeah, they saw my face when I dropped her off."

"Would Jo or Dean be a suspect?"

"No. They weren't with me at the time."

Ellen chewed on her lip for a moment. "Sam, you need to leave."

Sam stared at her. "What?"

"You need to leave. If they find you here, they are going to arrest you."

"What about the rest of you? What are you going to do?"

"We're leaving too, but we're going out the front. They have no reason to suspect us of anything, and there's no way we can sneak out the back with Dean in the condition he's in. You, however, need to leave. Now."

"Like hell that's going to happen." Both Ellen and Sam turned at the sound of Dean's voice. They hadn't realized he was listening. "We're not splitting up."

"Dean, there's no other way. Unless you want Sam to get arrested."

"Of course not. Which is why we're all going out the back. Together."

"You're in no condition to be sneaking through the woods in the middle of winter."

"And we have no time to argue about this," Dean gritted his teeth and struggled to sit up. By the time he was upright, he face was pale and he was taking deep, pained breaths. His legs immediately collapsed when he tried to stand. Sam barely made it to his side in time to catch. He eased him back down on the couch, looking at him with concern.

He could see Ellen was right. Dean was in no condition to be standing, let alone running from the cops through a snowy forest. And he had no doubts that the cops wouldn't hesitate to arrest him as soon as they saw him. If they had more time, maybe they could come up with a better plan, but with the police right outside the door…

Sam sighed, defeated. "Fine."

"Sam, no…" Dean managed to say as he struggled to catch his breath. He looked at his brother, his eyes pleading, begging for him to stay. Sam's resolved wavered as he saw something else in Dean's eyes. Fear. He couldn't remember the last time his big brother looked so scared. And who could blame him? Dean was hurt, vulnerable, his normally stoic walls weakened by pain and exhaustion, and here he was, abandoning him. God, he hated this, but he had no other choice.

"I'm sorry, Dean, there isn't another way." Dean looked at him for several long moments before he sighed too.

"You're right."

"Here, I found this," Sam dug through his pockets, pulling out Dean's lost amulet. He gently tied it around his brother's neck, making sure the pendent wasn't resting against any wounds. Dean seemed to relax a little with the familiar weight on his chest.

"I'll see you soon, Dean," he smiled, giving Dean's uninjured shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Be safe, Sammy," Dean whispered as Sam turned to leave.

While Sam and Dean were talking, Ellen had woken up Jo, and they were in the process of packing up their supplies. They paused when they noticed he was leaving.

Jo intercepted Sam on his way to the back door and wrapped him in a hug. "Don't worry, we'll take care of him."

"I know you will. I'll catch up as soon as I can."

"Be sure that you do."

Sam gave Ellen a quick hug and threw one last reassuring smile to Dean before walking out of the room and to the back door. Or at least he hoped it was a reassuring smile, because he sure as hell didn't feel reassured about this plan.

He glanced out the window beside the door, making sure the coast was clear. He saw one officer in the back yard, examining something on the ground. Apparently they were doing a perimeter search before coming into the cabin. Which was just as well, it gave them more time to plan. Once the cop rounded the corner out of the house and was out of sight, Sam bolted to the trees.

Ellen made sure Sam was safely in the tree-line before turning back to the room. "Jo, unhook Dean from the IV's," she ordered as she hastily put the dwindling embers out. Jo nodded and immediately did as she ordered.

"What's the plan?" Dean asked hoarsely as Jo stopped the flow of fluids and blood and carefully unhooked them from the back of his hand.

"The plan is to get out of here as quickly as possible with as few questions as possible. Put a jacket on. The fewer wounds they can see the less curious they'll be."

Dean grunted as Jo helped him into the jacket that had been laying across him. Sam's jacket. He groaned when he realized that meant Sam was outside in the snow with no jacket. That stupid asshole. He better be ok. He had to be. God, he wished he was here. Dean wanted him here more than he cared to admit, even to himself.

"You alright?" Jo asked as she zipped his jacket up.

"I can manage. You'll need to help me up," Dean grunted.

"Not what I meant." Dean looked away. He knew what she meant. She wanted to know if he was ok now that Sam was gone. Of course he wasn't, but there was no point in crying over spilled milk.

Before he could voice this, there was a knock on the door.

"Dean, keep your head down. Small-town cops might not be aware of who the feds are looking for, but better safe than sorry," Ellen whispered before she opened the door. "Can I help you officers?"

Through the crack between the door and the wall, Dean could just make out one of the officer's faces. He looked surprised. Dean guessed he hadn't expected anyone to answer the door.

The officer quickly regained his composure. "Yes, we are here investigating a beating of a young woman. We have reason to believe that this man has something to do with it and could be here." Dean couldn't see what the officer was holding, but he guessed it was a picture of Sam.

"Yes, he was here." Dean jerked his head up at Ellen's words. _What the hell is she doing? _"I'm Detective Wilson, with the state police. My partner and I have been following this man for a while. We tracked him here, where he had another girl captive. We tried to stop him, but he got away after shooting my partner in the leg." _Geez, Ellen, don't make Sam seem innocent or anything_ Dean thought irritably, but he understood that this was the best they could come up with in a short amount of time.

"Someone got shot? Did you call an ambulance?" the officer inquired.

"No cell service."

"When did this happen?"

"Last night. The weather was bad, and I had medical supplies, so we decided to stay here to treat his injury. We were actually about to leave."

"Any idea where the suspect went?"

"No. But he's probably long gone by now. He's had hours to get away. I would be more than happy to answer any questions you may have later, but right now I would like to take care of my partner."

"Of course. Do you need any help?"

"I think we can manage."

"Alright. Then we're just going to have a quick look around the building, if that's ok."

"Feel free." Ellen let the officers in and nodded to Jo and Dean to head towards the door. Once the officers were in the cabin, she grabbed their bags and headed out to the truck. Dean tried unsuccessfully to suppress a groan as Jo helped him stand. His body didn't want to respond the way it should and was screaming in protest at every movement. When he stood up, his head spun and Dean had to fight down the urge to vomit. Jo slipped under his good shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. As they hobbled towards the door, Dean tried to support himself on his one good leg, but still ended up leaning most of his weight against Jo. They made it almost to the door before Dean faltered, dragging both himself and Jo to the floor. Agony flashed through his body as his right side hit the ground hard and Dean cried out in pain.

The next thing he knew he was laying prone on the floor staring up at a circle of people. His brain was slow and foggy, and for the life of him he couldn't place the faces around him.

"Are you ok?" someone on his left asked. Dean tried to focus on the person that spoke. The face looked familiar.

"Are you with us, Dean?" the same person spoke again. _I'm Dean _he thought vaguely. _Who are you?_ He knew he should recognize this person.

"What happened?" a different person asked. _Hang on, buddy, wait your turn_ Dean thought rather irritably. He was still trying to place the first voice. Someone above him talked again, but he wasn't listening anymore. His eyes drifted closed as he tried to put a name to the first face…

"He's going into shock!" the second voice said right before Dean felt something sting his face. _Son of a bitch, you did not just slap me._ Dean decided that he was not a fan of Voice #2. He was going to give him an earful as soon as he figured out how to get his mouth to work. _Strange, usually my mouth works just fine. _

"What the hell are you doing? That doesn't help!" Voice #1 again. _Yeah, you tell him_. _Who does he think he is, slapping me?_

"We need to elevate his feet," a new voice said. _Who the hell are you?_

The sound of feet scuffling was quickly followed by something being placed under his ankles, raising them up. _That's stupid, my feet don't need a friggin' pillow. _

"What else can we do?" Voice #2 asked. _Damn, you're annoying. _

There was a pause before someone spoke again. "Jo, get the IV hooked up again." _Jo?_ He knew that name. _Why do I know that name? _

His thoughts were interrupted by a sting in his arm. _What the crap? I think there are bugs in here_. He tried to swat the pesky insect off his arm, but his hand didn't respond to his commands.

"Is there anything else we can do?" the second voice asked desperately. _Yeah you can shut up_ Dean thought angrily. _Or better yet, get the bug off my arm. _

"We can't do much else besides wait." _Get the damn bug!_

"Why did this happen?"

"Most likely it's because of blood loss. Walking probably didn't help. Falling definitely didn't."

"Will he be ok?" _Oh my God, do you never shut up? You're worse than Sam. Crap, Sam! Where is he? _Dean struggled to open his eyes to try and find his brother. After several failed attempts, he finally managed to open them enough to see the same faces above him, none of which were Sam. Panic flared up in his chest as he realized his brother was missing.

He wrestled with his tongue, trying to form the words to tell the faces that Sam wasn't there. Obviously they didn't know or else they would be looking for him.

"Uggghhh," he managed. _Close enough._

"He's awake!" One of the faces moved closer to him, filling most of his vision. "Dean, can you hear me?" It was that first voice again. Slowly he connected the voice with the face…

"Jo," he stated proudly. Or rather, groaned proudly.

"Oh thank God. How do you feel?" Jo looked relieved.

"Sam."

"Sam's not here, remember?"

_Sam's not here? Where the hell is he? Why aren't you looking for him? Is he ok? _Dean decided to condense all of his questions into a strained "Where?"

"Not here," Jo repeated, a warning not in her voice. _What would she be warning me…oh yeah. The cops. _Memory slowly came back to Dean, and he remembered the situation they were in. _This sucks._

His tired mine decided to move on to the next issue. "Bug," he moaned.

"What bug?"

"Arm."

"There's no bug on your arm, Dean. There's just an IV." Dean's brain was starting to clear and his tongue was becoming more cooperative.

"Take out."

"We can't. You need it. You were in shock."

"It's annoying."

"I'm sorry, we need to leave it in."

"You're annoying."

"Don't be a baby," Jo chuckled, relieved that Dean seemed to be recovering quickly.

"You're a baby."

She laughed again. "Is that the best you can come up with?" she teased gently.

"Dean, we need you to lie still for a little while, ok?" another voice asked. Dean turned his head to look at whoever had spoken.

"Ellen," he stated, glad when the name came easily to him.

"Yup. Who else did you expect?" Ellen smiled at him.

"Is he going to be ok?" the second voice asked again. _Goddammit Duce, shut the hell up! _Dean searched for the source of the annoying voice and found one of the police officers standing over Ellen's shoulder. Now that Dean had a moment to look at him, he could see that the guy was really young. This was probably one of his first assignments. The kid was looking at Dean, scared. Dean guessed he had never seen anyone go into shock before.

"He should be," Ellen answered, a motherly tone in her voice.

"Who's Sam?" the other officer asked from somewhere off to Dean's left.

"His brother," Jo replied quickly. "He left for college not too long ago."

The officer that had spoken gave her a strange look before he spoke again. "Hopkins, can I speak to you outside?" The annoying cop nodded and followed his partner out the door.

"Shit," Ellen whispered as soon as the door closed. "Jo, why did you answer that question?"

"I didn't want them asking too many questions about Sam, considering he's the guy they're looking for!" Jo shot back defensively.

"Yes, but they think you're one of his victims. As far as they know, you don't know Dean. How could you know who Sam was?"

"Oh," Jo paled a little. "Shit."

"Dean, I'm really sorry, but we need to leave. Now." Ellen and Jo helped him struggle slowly to his feet. Carefully the three hunters made their way to the door, Dean draped between Ellen and Jo. When they finally made it outside, the cops stopped their whispered conversation and looked at them.

"Where are you going?" the older cop asked, walking towards them quickly.

"We're taking him to the hospital," Ellen answered without stopping.

"I thought you said he needed to lie still for a while."

"And he did. Now we're taking him to the hospital." They had made it to the truck, and Jo was struggling with the passenger side door.

"I think it would be a better idea for him to lie down some more."

"Thank you for your input, but he's my partner, and I think he should go to the hospital." Ellen and Jo helped Dean get into the truck. Dean tasted blood in his mouth as he bit his lip to try and keep himself from groaning in pain. He felt Jo slide into the bench seat beside him, supporting him and keeping him from collapsing exhausted to the side.

"Right, your partner. With the state police, was it? I don't think I ever saw your badge." The officer stepped closer to the truck, stopping Ellen from going to the driver's side.

"And I would be more than happy to show it to you as soon as I get him to the hospital."

"All right, we'll follow you. Give you a police escort. That way you won't have to worry about traffic."

"I really don't think that's necessary." Ellen tried to sidestep him, but he moved to block her.

"I insist."

"Well, in that case…" Ellen suddenly jabbed her elbow into the officer's face. He stumbled back, stunned, gripping his bloody nose. Before he could react, Ellen pulled his gun out of his holster and shot the right tires of the police car. She sprinted around the hood of the truck, tossing the weapon to the side and slipping quickly into the driver's seat.

"I hate cops," she muttered as she threw the truck into gear and steered it away from the cabin.

"Nice job, Mom," Jo said, impressed. She knew her mom was tough, but she never thought she would punch a police officer and shoot a squad car.

A small smile flitted across Ellen's face at the praise. "How you doing, Dean?" she asked, glancing at the slumped hunter beside her.

"Awesome," he breathed heavily. "What about the Impala?"

"As soon as Sam catches up with us and we get you situated, we'll come back and get it."

Dean nodded. He didn't like leaving his baby behind, but, just like with Sam, they didn't have much of a choice. The cops thought the Impala belonged to a criminal, so they couldn't very well take it now and Sam can't use it as a get-away car.

Dean leaned against Jo as they hit the highway. Damn, he was tired. The roar of the engine soon had him drifting off to sleep.

**A/N:** I hope everyone is enjoying the story! It's almost over, I promise. I haven't decided yet if I am going to do a chapter from Sam's point of view describing how he gets back to them or just have him do a recap when he meets back up with the others. If you have an opinion on which you would prefer, PM me or tell me in a review. Thanks for reading!


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